Love at First Sin
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: AU. Looking to blow off some steam, Dean finds a nameless, beautiful man that completely rocks his world, more than just physically. Imagine his surprise when the very man shows up at family brunch... holding Sam's hand. Beginning Sastiel, with Destiel and eventual Sabriel.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Love at First Sin

 **Rated:** M

 **Summary:** AU. Looking to blow off some steam, Dean finds a nameless, beautiful man that completely rocks his world, more than just physically. Imagine his surprise when the very man shows up at family brunch... holding Sam's hand. Beginning Sastiel, with Destiel and eventual Sabriel.

 **A/N:** After rewatching episode 200 and hearing Sam say, "Sastiel? Samstiel?" I thought about it and realized that they (as normal non-hunter non-angel men) would make a plausible couple. Of course, not as passionate as Cas and Dean, but hey! That's what fan fiction is for! Here's to exploring if opposites really do attract.

This is sort of... experimental for me. I haven't written much of this, but I'm going to post the first chapter to force myself to finish it. I'm almost done with my other fic, _The Raven_ , but as the almighty Chuck says, "Endings are hard." Enjoy!

 **Love at First Sin**

 **Chapter One**

It had been a bad day for Dean Winchester.

Bobby would never admit it, but he loved Sunday brunch. He, Sam, Dean, Ellen, and Jo would gather at the dusty old house and have a sit-down meal. Ellen told everyone that that the only reason they could ever miss brunch was if they were dead and buried. So Dean went to brunch.

It started off as all the others did. Bobby and Ellen skirted around each other in the kitchen, exchanging small smiles and little "Oh, let me help you!"s. Dean gathered the silverware, shaking his head. The two of them should just admit their feelings and get it on already. The older Winchester gagged a little when a mental picture of that came to mind.

Jo lay on the couch, moaning. She had some sort of stomach virus, but the doctor said she was no longer contagious after three days of antibiotics. Still, she looked pale and in pain.

"Jo," Dean squatted down next to his adoptive sister. "You need to go upstairs and sleep. You sound like you're dying."

"Don't mother hen me, Dean," she groaned, sitting up. "I get enough of that from my own mom."

Dean chuckled and ruffled her blonde hair, earning a sound of annoyance. "You're at least going to take some painkillers, don't argue. You know I'll force-feed you if I have to." Jo rolled her eyes and slumped back onto the cushions, but swallowed the pills dutifully.

It was when Sam got there that things took a downward turn.

"Hey Sammy," Dean called from the kitchen. Sam didn't even respond. Instead he stomped right into the living room and threw himself on a chair.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Jo croaked.

"It's nothing," Sam stared resolutely out the window.

"That's the weakest lie I've ever heard," Bobby stood against the doorframe. "What's eatin' you, son?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

"Lemme guess, someone deleted all the documentaries off your DVR?" Dean joked, trying to lighten the situation. Sam never liked getting attention when he was upset. "Food's ready, by the way."

No one moved. They crowded Sam, and Dean knew that it was only going to make his mood worse.

"What, do I need an audience for my pain now?" Sam stood and pushed past Bobby, storming off into the junk yard.

Dean tossed the kitchen towel onto the table and sighed. "I got it," he motioned for everyone to go ahead and start eating.

Sam was pacing in front of a beat up Toyota when Dean got to him. Sam was just itching for a fight, and Dean wasn't in the mood to take it. Some yelling occurred, and Sam punched a car. Better than punching him, Dean supposed, but Sam was ungodly strong and managed to break off bits of the frame into his skin.

They went to the emergency room.

Sam broke two metacarpals and had six pieces of metal removed from his knuckles. Ellen worried over him, switching between protective and scolding the entire time. Jo stayed at home with Bobby, who should have come with them. Dean stayed with Sam, talking quietly to the doctors and nurses.

After a while, Dean told Ellen to please go wait in the waiting room because he needed to talk to Sam.

"Seriously, man, what's wrong? You can't escape in here, and you can't punch anything." Dean sat down, giving Sam the I-don't-do-feelings-but-I-love-you-so-talk-to-me-dammit look.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his unbroken hand. "It's my boyfriend. We had a big fight last night."

Sam had always had really bad luck with relationships. Over the years, that made him paranoid, clingy, and suspicious, which put him in an even worse mindset for dating. But Sammy loved love, and it never stopped. This particular boyfriend that Dean rarely heard about had been around for two months and had never met the family. He honestly knew nothing about him, other than the fact that his name was Castiel.

"What about?" Dean asked carefully.

"He's been distant lately." Sam closed his eyes. "He'll just up and leave for 'me time' without any warning. I don't want it to end, Dean." Sam's lip started to quiver and Dean was immediately at his side.

"Hey, if this guy doesn't see what's right in front of him, it's his loss," Dean rubbed Sam's shoulder. He knew the 'I'm sure they love you' route was the wrong way to go about comforting Sam, because these kind of relationship problems with him usually lead to breakups, and Sam was always better about it if he was prepared for the end to come.

"I mean it, Sammy. Don't settle just because you don't believe you can do better."

Sam snorted. "This coming from Mr. Emotional Competence." The jab didn't sting anymore; Dean was even worse than Sam when it came to relationships, and he had given up on them a long time ago.

"Come on," Dean changed the subject, pulling Sam out of his chair. "Let's go back to the house. I'll put extra blueberries on your pancakes."

After the somewhat tense late-brunch, Dean put in a shift at the garage. He hated working on the new models of sports cars. He was a classics kind of guy. But new sports cars broke down and their owners paid good money, so he spent the afternoon under the hood of a Jaguar trying to piece together what made this weird engine spontaneously die three days in a row.

His working went nowhere, and soon the sun was setting and he needed a drink. Shower, microwaved pizza, hit the road.

Usually Dean would hit up the Roadhouse, but he wasn't in the mood for Ellen to grill him about Sam. The next best choice was Lafitte's, a local bar that was the perfect mixture of classy and seedy.

"Whiskey. Uh, double," Dean told the bartender. He swallowed half the drink at once, the burn comforting in the cold room. Maybe he needed to take someone home. His dry spell was going on two months now, and that was incredibly unacceptable in his books. He'd just been so tired.

Dean sipped at the rest of his whiskey, surveying the room for any willing women. Or men. He was an equal opportunity kind of guy, though he preferred men. They were just harder to come by. There was a pretty redhead in a group of girls eyeing him from across the room, and two blondes at the end of the bar whispering and giving him the occasional shy glance.

Dean turned and spotted a man at the other end of the bar, alone. He licked his lips. This man was absolutely gorgeous. His suit was a bit rumpled, but the electric blue tie he wore matched the intense blue of his eyes. His messy black hair stuck up perfectly, and a strong jaw moved under scruffy skin as he sipped his drink. He looked almost elegant, with a touch of innocence.

The man looked up and caught Dean's eye. This would be the telling moment. Did he like what he saw? Did he want Dean to come talk to him? Dean suddenly wished he was wearing something nicer than his ripped up jeans and leather jacket.

That didn't seem to matter to the man, who gave Dean a little flirtatious smile. Yahtzee.

Dean returned the smile and slid off the barstool. The man held eye contact until Dean was right there next to him.

"Let's hear it," he said. Dean stopped, partially confused by his words and partially stunned by his amazing voice. It was low and growly and would probably sound even better in bed.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hear what?"

The man smiled. "The cheesy one-liner you're about to give me."

Dean's grin returned and he slid into the seat next to the man. "Do I look like a cheesy one-liners kind of guy?"

The man's eyes glided down his body and back up, shamelessly checking Dean out. "Hmm. The leather jacket and devil-may-care look in your eyes says you're a ladies man, but you're talking to me. Equal opportunity, I presume?"

Dean laughed. "Spot on."

The man turned to face Dean completely. "So what do you usually say to your potential conquests to get them to go home with you?" The words held no malice or judgement, just curiosity with a bit of humor in them.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. "Well, ordinarily the cheesy one-liners work. But for you..." Dean looked this man up and down. His suit wasn't very tight, so he wasn't wearing it specifically to attract people. There were little crease lines in it, so he had probably worked or done something today. There were very faint dark circles under his eyes, and he was sitting at the end of the bar, partially hidden from view. This man didn't come here to get laid. He came here to drink. On a Sunday.

"I'm going to buy you a drink and ask you what's wrong."

The blue-eyed man's lips parted in surprise. "I... uh..."

Dean motioned to the bartender to get another drink for this man. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but sometimes it's easiest to talk about stuff with a stranger." Dean leaned back and gave him an honest, open look.

"Well," the man fiddled with the hem of his suit jacket. "I'm having some family trouble." Dean raised an eyebrow and stayed quiet. The man sighed. "Two of my brothers are fighting over the inheritance my father left us. He died recently."

Dean immediately felt terrible. This guy was not looking to get laid at all. "I'm so sorry," Dean mumbled.

"I don't know why people say sorry," the man chuckled humorlessly, downing the rest of his first drink. "It's not your fault."

Dean's brow creased. "I guess I'm using the word as an adjective. I'm filled with sorrow at your loss. I'm sorry." Dean traced the rim of his glass. "I get it, actually. My dad died a few years ago. It's a hard thing to go through."

The man looked at him, and Dean couldn't really decipher the look. He prided himself on being able to read people, but that look... "It's a trying situation."

"Are you all okay? Like the rest of your family?" Dean asked. He remembered the toll John's death took on him and Sam.

"My mother is dead as well," the man said matter-of-factly. Dean's eyes widened. "I mean, it was a long time ago. I was two. Don't say you're sorry again." Dean shut his mouth and nodded, and the man smiled. "It's changed the dynamic of my family. All I have left are my brothers and sister, and most of them seem pretty unaffected."

Before Dean knew it was happening, his hand slid across the bar and covered the other man's. He didn't say anything. What was there to say about that?

It was if the touch woke the man up. "God, I'm sorry for unloading all my problems on you." He didn't pull his fingers away when Dean traced his thumb down the skin.

"Nah, it's fine," Dean said. "Like I said, unloading on a willing stranger helps sometimes."

The man straightened up. "Your turn. Something's bothering you too."

Dean chuckled and looked down at their hands. "I guess..." he trailed off. "I guess it's just all the little stuff is getting to me. Life isn't as exciting as it used to be, you know?" Dean sighed. "I'm too young to be having a mid-life crisis. I'm not even thirty, for gods sake. I..." Dean pulled at the collar of his t-shirt. The room was suddenly stifling. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

The man looked wary now. "What do you mean, 'a walk'?"

Dean smiled. "Just a walk. Nothing you don't want to do. I want to get out of this bar, but I don't want to stop talking to you." He threw some bills on the bar and the man grinned broadly.

"I know a pretty nice place to talk. I'll show you."

They walked for almost twenty minutes, talking about menial little things. Dean liked bands like AC/DC and Metallica, and the other man liked Simon and Garfunkel and the Beatles. They would both cut off their arms for a good bacon cheeseburger. Dean was a mechanic, and the other man was an art museum curator.

They didn't exchange names. They had been talking for over an hour, and it seemed wrong to break this anonymous closeness of theirs. The man seemed to be on the same page as Dean, because he said nothing about it.

Dean was getting a lot of that- understanding what this guy was trying to tell him without so many words. It was a strange sort of connection, and Dean was walking the tightrope between casual interest and developing actual emotions for this guy.

"Hey, this is my apartment building," Dean said as they arrived at his place of residence.

The man looked surprised. "I didn't know that," he said honestly. "One of my cousins lives in this building, and the rooftop is a really nice place to simply be."

Dean grinned at him. His speech patterns were strange sometimes, and it was sort of endearing. "Lead the way," Dean swept an arm out in front of him.

The two sat against the side of the roof, looking up at the stars. They were quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Sometimes I wish I could fly," the man broke the silence quietly. "It would be amazing to see things above. Focus on the big picture rather than the details. I think it would make everything a little more beautiful. Make it worth doing all the things in life that you don't want to do, but you know you have to." His face flushed in the moonlight. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"You are," Dean assured him. "I kind of wish I could teleport. It sounds childish, I know, but think about it. You could go anywhere and do anything. You could see the world without cutting ties to the things- people- you have at home. You could... I don't know. Really experience stuff. Turn a black and white life into something colorful."

Dean looked at this other man and his breath caught in his throat. He was looking at Dean with wonder, like Dean was a beautiful landscape he'd never seen before. Dean was sure his eyes reflected that look. This man was something else, someone he didn't think was possible.

Dean didn't know who moved first, but the next moment his mouth was on the man's, lips pressed firmly against soft skin. His hands scrambled for purchase on the other man, one fisting his trenchcoat and the other gripping the locks of dark hair. The man made a little happy noise as Dean's tongue slid against his.

This kiss was something else. Dean was on fire, every place he touched erupted in tingles.

He needed to be closer, _closer_. Ha maneuvered the man onto his lap and pressed up against him, humming happily when he arched into him.

The man broke away for a second, pupils blown out. "Didn't you say this was your apartment building?" his voice sounded wrecked already.

"Fuck yeah," Dean choked, hauling the man to his feet and dragging them back inside.

They managed to get to Dean's door with minimal bumps and bruises; Dean couldn't help but push the man against the wall and attach his lips every minute or so. As soon as the apartment door slammed behind him, Dean nearly ripped the man's trenchcoat off and picked him up. The man's legs wrapped around him and he pulled at Dean's hair, angling his head for better access to his mouth.

This man was all fire and passion, nipping at Dean's lips and kneading his shoulders. Dean gave it all back, squeezing him roughly through the material of his suit jacket. His clothes were still on. That was unacceptable.

The man was on the same wavelength as Dean. He scrambled down from Dean's embrace and pushed his jacket off, along with Dean's leather one. Dean pulled at the buttons of the man's shirt, uncaring that a few popped off the fabric. The man shoved Dean's shirt up until Dean had to let go in order to pull the offending garment off.

They were both completely bare and on the bed. This was going so fast, but Dean couldn't restrain himself. The man was under him, and he bit down on the skin connecting the man's shoulder to his neck. The man moaned and rutted up against Dean, who ground down against him in turn.

"I want-" the man choked out.

"Yes," Dean answered. He made his way down the man's chest, pausing to lick at the pink nipples. The man arched up into the touch, so responsive. Dean was so hard it was painful, but he needed to taste this man even more than he needed his own release.

Without preamble, he swallowed the man's length down as far as he could. It was heavy and hot on his tongue and Dean sucked, greedy. The man gasped and scratched at Dean's back.

Dean withdrew his mouth after less than a minute and moved downwards, tasting every inch of skin he came across. He hadn't done this particular thing many times, but he wanted to so badly. He gripped the other man's thighs and pushed them upwards, exposing his beautiful puckered entrance. After one moment of appreciation, he leaned in and licked a slow line over the pink skin.

The man let out a yelp and bucked up into Dean's face. Apparently he hadn't done this much either, or at all. He whimpered, pushing his ass towards Dean's face as if asking for more.

Dean traced the circle of puckered skin, his tongue putting more and more pressure on it until he delved inside. The mewls and whimpers above Dean fueled his fire, and he licked and nipped and sucked until the other man was babbling.

"Top drawer," he muttered against the blue-eyed man's thigh. He struggled to comply as Dean continued his ministrations.

The man nearly threw the small bottle of lube and condom at Dean. "Ungh, please," he begged.

Dean complied immediately, slicking up a finger and pressing it slowly into the whimpering man below him. He accepted it with an eager "Aaah!" and pushed down onto Dean's finger. Dean added another, perhaps too quickly, but the man just gripped the sheets tighter. "More, please," he gasped.

Dean probed deeper and crooked his fingers, looking for that magic place inside him. The man nearly sobbed beneath him. Dean added another finger and hit his prostate with every stroke. "Please, I need you now, please," the man begged.

The condom was on and Dean was slicked up in record time. Only then did Dean stop and look at this gorgeous man beneath him.

There was barely any blue left in his eyes, swallowed by hungry pupils. His lips were red and raw and sweat glistened on his skin. The lean muscles of his arms and torso were flexing and relaxing, as if searching for a purpose. He was shaking with need, staring at Dean like he was trying to read his soul. "Please," he whispered.

Dean felt himself nod. He draped himself over the man and kissed him like he was drowning. As slowly as he could manage, he sheathed himself into the man's tight heat. "Fuck," he whispered, breaking the kiss.

The man's eyes widened and sucked in a breath. Dean bottomed out and sat there for a moment. "Ahh, breathe, sweetheart," he commanded, and the man took several shuddering breaths.

Dean kissed and nipped at his neck until he heard, "God, please move!" Dean withdrew and pushed in again, this time harder, testing this man's tolerance. "More," he whimpered. Dean thrusted harder and the man took it eagerly. "More!" Dean slammed into him and the man sobbed in pleasure, bucking up simultaneously.

"Jesus," Dean growled, pounding into the man for all he was worth. He felt _amazing_. Dean's vision was tunneling and his entire body was on fire, bolts of electricity shooting up his spine with every thrust.

The man under his was resilient. He had one arm wrapped around Dean's neck and one gripping his bicep with surprising force, nails digging in. His legs were wrapped around Dean's waist and he was babbling "more" and "please" and "yes" and nonsense syllables.

Dean was grunting into his neck. He knew he wasn't going to last long. He shifted the man's hips up and snaked a hand between them, gripping his diamond hard member. Dean stroked once, twice, and then the man was screaming his release. He clamped down hard on Dean, and with one more thrust, Dean was flying, waves of pleasure sweeping over him.

He managed to roll when he collapsed and landed next to the panting man with a hum of satisfaction. After his heart rate was down into the safe zone, he grabbed his t-shirt and wiped the mess off the blue-eyed man, who chuckled.

This was the part where Dean would usually get dressed and tell the lucky man or woman thanks, give them cab money if they needed it. He glanced at the man across from him. Those big blue eyes were giving him that same look from the rooftop, that look of awe and something else. He bit his lip, and Dean was done for.

He scooted towards the man and pulled the covers over both of them. Dean gathered the pliant body into his arms and arranged the man so he'd be comfortable. The man smiled up at him, a sweet, secretive smile, and pulled Dean's face down for a kiss. This one was soft and languid and said different things than the mind-blowing sex. It was gentle and comforting and something else. It felt like the kiss Dean received the first time he ever said "I love you" to a girl.

That fact alone should have terrified him. But the man nuzzled into his neck and promptly fell asleep, and Dean couldn't help the big stupid grin that spread across his face. He'd be terrified later. Now, he would sleep.

Dean woke slowly, another body stretching against his. It was the man from last night. That wasn't just a dream.

He stretched his own heavy limbs. "Morning," he mumbled, kissing the man's scruffy cheek.

"Mmm," the man hummed. "Morning." His eyes blinked open, suddenly alert. "Monday morning." He glanced at Dean's bedside clock, which read 8:40. "Shit," he growled, flinging the comforter off himself.

"What, what's wrong?" Dean shook his head, trying to wake himself up.

"I'm late for work!" the man scrambled for his clothes, pulling them on hurriedly.

Dean knew he couldn't really do much, so he stumbled into the kitchen, naked, and pulled out a granola bar and a styrofoam cup and a lid. Thank god his coffee pot was set to brew at 8:30.

The man ran out of his room in time to see Dean, still very naked, holding coffee and a granola bar with a lazy smile.

The man groaned in appreciation of the sight and pulled him into a deep kiss. It lasted maybe three seconds, but it still made Dean warm and tingly. He took the granola bar and coffee and kissed him once more, softly.

"Goodbye," he whispered against Dean's lips. And then he was gone.

Dean's door closed and he brushed a finger over his lips. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Oh my god, guests and Dew Diamonds, you're my favorite. You have no idea how amazing it is to hear that I have any sort of following whatsoever. 3 Thank you to the other readers too! Feel free to review!

 **Chapter Two**

No matter how hard Dean tried, he couldn't get those blue eyes out of his head. That's what he decided to call the man- Blue Eyes.

Blue Eyes had been haunting his dreams every night that week. Sometimes, he'd show up in Dean's room again and they would have mind-blowing, soul-reaching sex. It was the first time Dean had a wet dream since he was twelve. He had jacked off so many times that week that he was sure his right arm was going to fall off. He was in a constant state of half arousal.

But other times, he and Blue Eyes would just talk. Sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the bar, and sometimes in Dean's bed. Sure, Blue Eyes was the most attractive man Dean had ever seen in his whole life, but he made something spark in Dean's gut that he never felt before. He made Dean's heart race and his hands clam up and his breath catch in his throat. Dean felt like a kindergartner preparing to give his crush a flower on Valentine's Day. He was a mess.

That whole week, Dean was off his game. At the garage, he banged his head against the hood of a car more times than he could count. He accidentally sold a customer the wrong type of filter, and he zoned out for a solid two minutes while Bobby spoke to him.

He wasn't even all there when Sam took him and a few of their buddies out for the night. Sam said something about relationships being set right and bought each of them a round, but Dean didn't touch the drinks.

Even around his apartment, he was spacey. He would lay in his bed every night and remember that cute little smile Blue Eyes gave him before he fell asleep.

Dean shouldn't have been such a wimp. He should have asked for Blue Eyes' number, or at least his name for god's sake. He wanted to see him again. Hell, he wanted to see him every day. He wanted to do all those things that he had been afraid to do before. He wanted to take him to dinner, meet his brothers and sister, introduce him to the family. He wanted to see where they could go.

At least Sam had fixed his relationship shit. He was even bringing the guy over for today's Sunday brunch, which Dean was currently fixing. After the week he had, he was making a mountain of waffles.

Jo was feeling better and chatting with Bobby about the merits of home remedies versus hospital visits. Ellen was scrambling eggs and humming. All they were waiting for was Sam and his boyfriend, Castiel.

"Hey guys!" Speak of the devil. Dean was still facing his waffle machine, smiling. Sam sounded so much happier.

A chorus of "hey"s and "morning"s greeted him, and Dean heard the scrape of Bobby's chair. Bobby'd go see about this boyfriend of Sam's. Dean would wait til the waffles were done.

"Hello, Mr. Singer," a familiar voice said from the living room. Dean froze. He would recognize that voice from anywhere. He'd been playing it in his head for a week. Blue Eyes.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. How in the ever loving fuck had this happened? Dean turned slowly, still in absolute shock. Yep, there was Blue Eyes, sorry, _Castiel_ standing there on Bobby's carpet. His suit had been swapped for a button up, vest, and jeans, and fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing in the world. Attractiveness aside, something warm and electric pulled in his chest, begging him to go to Castiel, wrap him in his arms and kiss him until the sun set. The only thing holding him back was the haze of anger situated at the front of his mind, and his baby brother's hand holding Castiel's.

It was then that Castiel caught his eye from the living room. Those blue eyes... shit. A look of absolute shock crossed his face, then mortification, then guilt, sadness, and a hint of longing. Dean started towards him with his fists clenched and Castiel's features morphed into a little bit of fear.

"Hey Dean! This is Castiel," Sam grinned broadly, but Dean didn't look at him. He grit his teeth in a smile at the man who had taken over his brain and was _dating his brother_ and reached out to shake his hand.

"Castiel, is it?" Dean asked, trying to conceal his rage. He gripped his hand a bit too hard.

Castiel cleared his throat. "And you're Dean, Sam's brother," his voice shook just a bit.

"Yes," Dean twitched as Sam placed a hand on the small of Castiel's back.

"It smells like waffles!" Sam glanced into the kitchen. If he noticed the tension between his brother and his boyfriend, he didn't say anything.

"I love waffles," Castiel said, averting his eyes from Dean.

Dean stalked back into the kitchen to toss the waffle that had just burned. "Waffles are Dean's favorite," he heard Sam say.

Dean stayed in the kitchen for as long as possible before he needed to sit down and eat. His brain had short circuited and all that was going through his mind was, _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck_. Dean clanged the kitchen equipment around a bit before he could no longer hide.

He set the mountain of waffles on the table and clenched his fists when he saw that the only chair left at the table was right across from Castiel. The man was staring at his empty plate, all that previous eye contact gone.

Everyone began to talk and serve themselves food from the buffet on the table, except Dean and Castiel. "Dean, are you alright?" Ellen asked, eyeing Dean's empty plate.

"Peachy," Dean said, keeping his voice even. Sure. Peachy. Just sitting down with his family, his brother, and his brother's boyfriend who he had the most passionate sex of his life with only a week ago.

"Castiel, you don't look so good either. Do you feel okay?" Sam stroked the blue-eyed man's hand with his thumb.

"Fine, thank you." Castiel picked up a waffle and set it on his plate, but still didn't touch it.

"Castiel," Dean said with a false smile. "I think we should talk. Outside." Dean pushed out of his chair and towards the door as Castiel's eyes went wide.

"Dean, is this the big brother talk?" Sam called after him.

"Do you really need to do this now?" he could barely make out Ellen's voice.

Dean stomped off into the car lot. The bang of the door was the only indication that anyone was following him. Fuck. Castiel was Blue Eyes. Fuck. Dean walked almost thirty yards before he found the strength to turn around.

Castiel was a lot closer than Dean thought he had been, and he didn't look so afraid anymore. Just guilty. Good. The bastard should be. "Dean..." he began in that fuckhot voice, and Dean focused on how goddamn angry he was to prevent himself from popping a boner right there.

"How dare you cheat on Sammy!" Dean yelled. They were out of the house's hearing range. So long as Dean didn't go ballistic, he could yell. And yell he did. "Why the fuck would you do that, huh? Don't you care about him at all? Who in their right mind-"

"We broke up!" Castiel yelled over Dean. This dampened his anger a little. Castiel sighed, exasperated. "Sam and I broke up that night, and then he called me the next morning and we talked about it. So I did not cheat on your brother!"

They glared at each other for a long minute, chests heaving with anger. Dean had been a rebound. That was a normal thing- Dean had found his share of rebounds in his life. But he was still so angry. He needed to yell more.

"Well what the fuck do we do now, Cas?" Dean yanked at his own hair and Castiel's head whipped up. He gave him a funny look. "What?"

"You called me Cas," he stated.

Oops. He didn't mean to nick name the guy. Cas just sounded... better. "What, is that illegal now?" he retorted.

Castiel's brow furrowed and he huffed. "We can tell him, or we can not tell him. Either option is bad for everyone."

Dean pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, as if that could hide him from those intense blue eyes. If he told Sam about all of this, Sam would be hurt. Like really hurt. Their brotherly bond would take a huge beating, and he might never regain all of Sam's trust.

On the other hand, if he didn't tell Sam, Sam wouldn't be hurt. The younger Winchester would find out eventually, no doubt about that, but the guilt would probably kill Dean first. Plus, he'd be seeing more of Castiel around. He didn't know if that was good or bad.

"We shouldn't have done that," Dean muttered.

Cas was suddenly very close to him, crystal eyes blazing in the South Dakota sun. "Can you honestly tell me, Dean, that you regret it?" his voice dropped and Dean knew that his palms weren't sweating from the heat. "Can you tell me that the night we had didn't completely wreck you? Body and soul?"

Oh god, Cas still felt it too. Dean felt it body and damn soul right there in the junk yard, and Dean Jr. agreed. A breathy, "Fuck," slipped out before he could catch himself, and Cas' eyes darkened.

"Exactly," Cas purred, and Dean snapped. He grabbed the front of Cas' vest and slammed him back against the nearest truck with the intention to punch his lights out, but instead he crushed their lips together. Cas responded eagerly, twining his fingers through Dean's hair and tugging sharply.

For a moment, Dean's mind went mercifully blank and his body took over, content to ravage Cas against the side of the truck forever. A little part of him melted thinking about what forever could be like for them.

Wait, shit, no! That thought snapped Dean out of his lusty stupor and he stumbled backwards, leaving Cas panting on the side of the truck. He looked so good, bitten lips still glistening with Dean's saliva and a huge tent in his well-fitting jeans. Dean just wanted to-

With a cry of frustration, Dean turned and punched straight through the windshield of the next car over, hearing more than feeling a little snap.

They went to the emergency room again.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam was livid when he saw Cas' pale face and Dean's bloody knuckles. He conveniently forgot of his own scrap with a car a week earlier.

"Scare tactic, Sam," Dean grunted. It was a terrible lie, but it was the best that he could come up with.

"Castiel, I'm so sorry," Sam took the blue-eyed man's hand and both he and Dean flinched this time.

"It's not a problem, Sam," Cas made sure to look Dean in the eyes. "We were just talking about some intense subjects."

Dean barely suppressed a groan.

Everyone dispersed soon after that, and Dean drove straight home. He and Cas hadn't come up with a plan-of-action about what to tell (or not tell) Sam, and Dean felt lost. Okay, yeah, Cas had technically been single when they hooked up a week ago. But he was very taken today, and today they made out like horny teenagers in Bobby's yard.

Dean flopped face first onto his bed and tried to take stock of his feelings, for once.

He wanted Cas more than he wanted anything else in the world, body and soul, like he said.

Cas felt the same way, or at least close enough to inhale Dean like he was water in the desert.

Cas and Sam were still together, so either they had to stop, or he and Dean had to stop. Because...

Dean cared about Sam so much. He had pretty much raised the kid, with their hot-shot detective dad traveling so much. He'd rather die than hurt Sammy.

And worst of all- The more he thought about all of it, the stronger these feelings grew. They had taken up a permanent residence right over Dean's willpower, and they weren't going away.

 **A/N:** What do you think? Is Dean in way over his head yet?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Wow! Dew Diamonds, hellosweetpea, Autumn Alchemist, and guests, thank you for the reviews! They make me very happy. To my guest who mentioned the whole "body and soul" thing, I was going for as close as I could get to love at first sight. I know a lot of people don't believe it can happen, but to those who've experienced something like it, it's violent, terrifying, and all-consuming. It's possible to be totally mad for them in only a few hours. That was my mentality towards it.

And now for some angsty, freaked out Dean and a Castiel we haven't seen before.

 **Chapter Three**

Dean ignored Sam's calls. Sam called constantly for three days, and Dean lay on his couch listening to the voicemail pickup.

"Dean, it's Sam. I think we should talk about what happened. I mean, you've scared my boyfriends before, but punching a car? What was that? Call me back." Beep.

"Dean, seriously, you have to talk to me at some point in time. I just want to know if everything is okay with you. Call me." Beep.

"Pick up your damn phone." Beep.

"Dean I'm coming to your apartment right now, so help me god." Beep.

"Fine, you win. Call me when you feel like being human again." Beep.

Dean felt awful, but what was he supposed to do? He was the _other man_ in Sam's relationship. If the hook up didn't count, then that kiss kind of made it clear. How did he look Sam in the eyes after that?

Instead, Dean threw himself into his work, taking up every extra shift available at the garage. Ash thought he was saving up for something big and offered to drive them to Vegas together. Garth played engine-side therapist and kept telling Dean that he was distantly related to Oprah, so Dean could talk to him about anything.

Jo was the most suspicious. She could usually read him like an open book, so he tried to stay as closed off as possible.

"Girl troubles?" Jo crossed her arms, eyeing Dean's tense expression under the hood of a Toyota Camry. "Guy troubles?"

Dean hit the back of his head on the hood and cursed.

Jo smiled triumphantly. "Guy troubles, huh? Did you meet someone?"

"No," Dean grunted, crossing the room to fiddle with equipment.

"I know when you're lying, Dean," Jo followed him. "Don't talk about those bottled up feelings, just tell me what happened. Then we can get drunk tonight and talk about your feelings then."

Dean snorted. That's usually how it went: he would give Jo the bare minimum, Jo would infer the rest, and then Jo would feed him tequila until he spilled everything. "It was just a one-night-stand," he partially-lied. "I don't even know his name. And I can't go out with you tonight, I have the last shift."

"Oh come on!" Jo pouted. "You never take the last shift! You've worked overtime the last three days! Jeez, Dean, you're gonna burn yourself out."

Dean wiped his greasy hands on a towel and picked up a stack of papers. "Hey, maybe I'm planning a trip to Vegas and need the money."

He gave her a snarky grin as Ash yelled from the back, "I'm driving!"

"Alright, Dean Johnathan Winchester. You stew in your juices for a few days. Your tequila will be ready when you come crawling back." Jo ruffled his hair and walked off.

Dean sat, grumbling about the motor oil in his hair as the shifts changed. 6:00 came and went, and soon only Dean and Kevin were left. Dean thought about working on that new (old) car for Sam he was planning, but didn't have the energy to get his ass up and do something productive.

It was almost 8:30 when Dean saw a tow truck pulling into their lot. He squinted, trying to assess the damage before the car was even brought up. There was only a small dent, but the wheel was twisted funny. He definitely wouldn't be able to finish fixing that in an hour.

Kevin ran out to help the truck driver detach the car and the car's owner opened the door and stepped down. Jesus Tapdancing Christ. It was Cas. The blue-eyed man was looking down at his phone as he walked towards the shop.

There were those butterflies again. That is, if the butterflies were angry and on fire. Dean found his extremities tingling and his heart rate rising.

No! He needed to calm the fuck down. His hands itched to pull the man to himself, but he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't even touch Cas, not at all. He needed to focus on something else besides feelings. Annoyance. Yeah, it was only an hour til they closed and Dean wanted to go home. He could be annoyed. Dean stood outside with his arms crossed, and when Cas got close enough, he cleared his throat.

Big blue eyes crashed with green and Dean reminded himself that he was at work, and he was annoyed. "I-I thought you didn't work this late," the man stuttered.

"How do you know my work schedule?" Dean asked, curious.

"I asked Sam so I never had to bother you, and..." he stepped into the light and Dean immediately noticed the tear stains on his cheeks.

All the previous annoyance fled. Something was wrong. Alarm bells went off in Dean's head. "Cas, what happened? Are you hurt?" Dean closed the distance between them and put his hands on the blue-eyed man's shoulders, immediately breaking his promise for the night.

"I'm fine." Cas' lip trembled and, without thinking, Dean's thumb came up to soothe the quivering flesh. Cas' eyes widened and Dean immediately removed his hands, floundering before he clenched them tightly at his sides. His brain was screaming _StopNoBad!_ but his heard begged _YesGoodMore!_

"Come here," Dean ordered gently, leading him towards the part of the garage where his car would be parked. There were a few little plastic seats against the wall, and Cas collapsed into one.

"Do you want, uh coffee? Tea? Something stronger?" Dean asked, not exactly sure where the line between hospitable and doting was.

Cas chuckled humorlessly. "Tea would be nice, thank you."

Dean forced his pace to slow and steady, though he wanted to rush to comfort Cas. The tea they had for the customers was kind of shitty, but he made it anyway.

Cas accepted the steaming styrofoam cup, and their fingers brushed. They tingled, but before Dean could say anything, Kevin called over to him. "A little help here, Dean?"

The two got the car into the garage and Dean focused on inspected it. It was a modest 2001 Chevy Cavalier, black. One of Cas' rims was damaged and the CV joint had failed completely.

Dean relayed the information to the blue-eyed man. "We're gonna have to replace the whole axle. The boot too. I can fix the rim damage. We don't have all the parts though, so," he looked pointedly away from Cas, "it'll take a few days. Maybe more."

Cas groaned, and Dean's dirty mind immediately turned it into the hungry moans from two Sundays ago. _No, bad Dean_. The man was upset, for god's sake! Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'll have to start the repairs tomorrow."

Kevin went back inside to write all this down, and Dean sat on the other plastic chair. "Do, uh, do you need me to call Sam to come get you?"

Cas shook his head. "Sam and I are fighting again."

There was a pause. "Do you want me to take you home?" That was stupid, he shouldn't have offered that. Cas would think he was propositioning him, and-

"Yes, please," he murmured, finishing the tea.

Dean nodded, somewhat surprised. "Okay," he mumbled.

After telling Kevin and grabbing his keys, Cas followed him to the Impala. It was silent as the two sat in the car, save Castiel giving the occasional direction. After several minutes, Dean asked, "Why did you think you'd bother me if you showed up during my shift?"

"The last time I saw you, you punched through a windshield," Cas deadpanned. "I didn't think you were keen on seeing me again after that." Dean nodded to himself. Made sense. After a few moments, Cas peered sideways at him. "You don't seem to mind now."

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish. What did he say to that? _Of course I don't mind, I wouldn't mind if you were glued to my side._ Dean cleared his throat as they came to a stop sign. "Right or left?"

Cas pointed, and Dean took a right. His small house was about a ten minutes drive from Dean's apartment, not that Dean noticed or anything. It was the only modern one in the neighborhood, surrounded by 70's style houses.

Dean turned into Cas' driveway and shut the engine off. They sat there for a moment, staring at each other, air crackling with tension.

"Will you come inside?" Cas asked. "Just to talk. I need someone to talk to right now."

Dean nodded numbly and followed Cas into his house. It was pretty sparsely furnished, with couches, a television, and some books adorning the living room. Cas beelined for the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. He poured two cups and handed one to Dean. Dean observed Cas quietly. The blue-eyed man stared at his mug for a minute, then reached into a cupboard for a bottle of Bailey's and added a generous amount to his. He immediately took a huge gulp, cringing at the scalding liquid.

"Cas-"

"I actually don't want to talk," Cas mumbled.

Dean awkwardly stood at the entrance to the kitchen. "Should I leave?"

"No," Cas said quietly. "I just..." he stopped and finally made eye contact with Dean. There was a heartbreaking expression on his face, and Dean forgot about everything that shouldn't be happening. He walked right up to Cas and wrapped his arms around him. Cas buried his face into Dean's shoulder, clenching fistfuls of Dean's shirt behind his back.

They stood like that for several moments, just holding each other. It felt right, like Cas belonged right there in his arms. It was platonic, Dean told himself. Just a friend comforting another friend.

After a while, Cas let go and led Dean towards his couch. Dean sat and Cas moulded himself to the Winchester's side. "My brother was just arrested," Cas said quietly. Dean's eyes widened, but he said nothing. "Luke had been embezzling his company's money for a few years, and I knew about it. I didn't condone it, obviously, but I wasn't going to turn my own brother in. The Michael found out that I knew and ripped me a thousand new ones, then turned Luke in. Now Luke's going to court and Michael won't talk to me and Anna's talking about moving to Paris and Gabriel's MIA and-"

"Breathe, sweetheart," Dean murmured, stroking Cas' hair as the other man tried not to hyperventilate. When he seemed fine again, Dean spoke up nervously. "This is a horrible time to bring this up, but why aren't you talking to Sam about this?"

Cas chuckled humorlessly. "I kind of tried. I mentioned Luke, but he got all lawyer on me and started asking for the technical stuff. That wasn't the point I was trying to make. Besides," Cas heaved a sigh, "he doesn't like talking about sad stuff. He just wants to cheer me up right away. But I don't want to cheer up. I don't want to force happiness all the time, and then we fight, and..." He fell silent.

Dean nodded. "I am the poster child for not dealing with shit well, but it's okay to be upset. You need to be upset, at least a little." He traced lines on the back of Cas' hand. "As long as you don't bottle shit up for fifteen years like I do, then you have every right to be sad or angry. Just," Dean huffed, "don't be angry at yourself, okay? Your brothers put you in a shit position, and you were just trying your best. Nothing here is your fault."

Cas was quiet for a long time. Minutes ticked by, and Dean almost thought Cas fell asleep until he whispered, "Thank you, Dean."

It was nearing ten 'o clock, and Dean had to be at work by nine the next morning. He knew he smelled like salt and motor oil. He wasn't sure why Cas still wanted him here, but he didn't want to leave yet.

"Let's get you to bed," Dean murmured, pulling the blue-eyed man to his feet. Castiel walked to a door at the far end of the living room and pushed it open. He left it open, and Dean crept to the doorway. Cas toed off his shoes and pulled off his shirt quickly, apparently uncaring that Dean was there. He went so far as to kick off his jeans and don sweatpants.

Dean groaned inwardly. Cas undressing in front of him reminded him so much of that night. He wanted to touch again, taste again, wrap himself around Cas and mark him as his own. He kept his hands pressed firmly to his sides, though. There were countless reasons that he couldn't do those things. Shouldn't do them.

It took him by surprise when Cas suddenly focused and marched right up to Dean, grabbed his face, and kissed him. Dean responded automatically, pressing his palms against Cas' naked back and pulling him close. Cas felt desperate, clutching onto what little comfort was in his reach. Dean matched everything Cas gave him, desperation included.

It was only a moment or so until their kissing slowed, becoming a different type of desperate. They stopped, foreheads touching. Reality set in, and they disentangled themselves from each other, tension thick in the air. They stood almost eye to eye; Cas was only an inch or two shorter than Dean.

"Good night, Dean," Cas murmured.

"Good night, Cas," Dean said. He didn't really remember leaving Cas' house and getting into his car. All he felt was half of a hard-on and a terrible ache in his chest.

 **A/N:** How do we feel about vulnerable Cas? Reviews are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you dewdiamonds, hellosweetpea, and Autumn Alchemist for your continuous support. You guys mean everything to me.

This chapter is long. Jo sets Dean up, but the date ends much differently than as planned.

 **Chapter Four**

Dean spun the rim of the wheel on the large machine, trying to even out the dent. He couldn't even get away from Cas at work. His car was Dean's project. His body language told no one else to touch it.

Jesus, what had happened to him? He didn't do feelings, and now here he was, the other man in _his own brother's_ relationship. And he had _actual emotions_ for this guy, so much so that he had forgotten everything else existed but Cas. That was two nights ago.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't even hear Jo slide up next to him. "You can't straighten that thing out with a glare, Dean."

Dean may or may not have jumped violently. "Fuck, Jo, give a guy a heart attack, would ya?"

Jo raised an eyebrow at him. "Alright, Winchester, you're either going to tell me what's eating you about this guy, or I'm going to beat it out of you."

Dean glanced around, alarmed that someone may have heard, but no one was there. "On lunch break, you bloodsucker," he muttered. Jo grinned in triumph and skipped off.

Lunch break came way too quickly. Jo grabbed the back of Dean's t-shirt and dragged him outside, two sandwiches in hand. They sat side by side for a moment before Dean stuffed a huge bite of BLT into his mouth. Jo laughed. "So ladylike, Dean."

Dean chuckled. "Just like you," he elbowed her in the ribs. With a swallow, he set his sandwich down. "Say, hypothetically, you met a guy and took him back to your place."

"For life-changing anonymous sex," Jo filled in.

"Jeez, shut up." Jo motioned for him to continue. "Then, say you saw this person again, and he happened to be in a relationship with someone you know. And you felt really, really horrible, but you kind of can't stop wishing he'd be with you instead of the other guy." Dean looked over at Jo, who's mouth was open.

"Is it someone I know?" she asked. Dean shook his head. _Lie_.

"One of my community college buddies that lives near here. You don't know him."

Jo sat back for a moment, thinking. "Do you love him?"

Dean's eyes closed and his head fell back against the wall. He had avoided that particular four-letter word in his head. Instead he told her what he had been telling himself. "I don't even know what love feels like, Jo. I haven't exactly had much experience."

She paused for a moment. "Does he love you too?"

"He..." Shit, how was he supposed to know? "He seems to reciprocate what I feel."

"And he hasn't broken up with the guy for you?" she asked.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's complicated."

"I see," she murmured.

There were words on the tip of Dean's tongue. He didn't like talking, but he needed to tell _someone_ , even if it was vague. "I can't stop thinking about him, Jo. And it hurts like hell. I know I need to leave it alone so they can be happy, but I don't want to."

"Do you want me to set you up with someone?" Jo asked. Dean groaned. Not this again. "No, no! He's good this time!" Jo assured him. "He's a really sweet guy who's emotionally competent and hot as hell. Please, Dean?"

Her big brown puppy dog eyes blinked up at Dean, coming in close second to Sam's. "Fine," he muttered. It couldn't hurt. He was technically the only one not taken. "What's his name?"

Jo squealed. "It's Benny! Dean, you'll love him. He's from Louisiana and has a beard and-"

"Hey, don't you think he should be telling me this stuff?" Dean ruffled Jo's hair, much to her annoyance.

"Yes. In fact, I'm giving him your number today so he can tell you all about himself as soon as humanly possible." Jo hopped off the bench and left in a hurry, leaving Dean to contemplate his life over the rest of the BLT.

This would be good, right? Going on a date with a single willing man was completely acceptable. More acceptable than spontaneous secret moments with his own brother's boyfriend. Maybe this Benny guy could be good for him. Though they hadn't stuck, Jo's picks for Dean had been okay so far... maybe this would be a good one.

Dean pushed the rest of the sandwich away, hunger forgotten. He was a terrible liar.

o o o

That evening, Dean's phone rang. "Hello?"

"Is this Dean Winchester?" Dean blinked several times. He was not expecting that voice on the other end of the line. It was strong and southern, and kind of gruff and growly, like- Nope. Stopping that train of thought right there.

"Uh, yeah. Is this Benny?"

"Yes it is." Dean could hear the guy smile.

"Sorry about Jo," Dean told him. "She likes to meddle."

"Quite alright, she's meddled in my love life more than once before."

Dean relaxed a little and chuckled. "Got any horror stories?"

"Nah, they've been pretty decent choices. I've learned to trust her judgement, which is why I want to buy you dinner tomorrow."

Benny was straightforward. And suave. Dean smiled, feeling his natural charm kick in. "That sounds perfect. I like to think I'm pretty decent."

He heard a throaty chuckle. "From what Jo tells me, you're more than decent. I'll pick you up at seven?"

Dean grinned. "I'll text you my address." They said goodbye and Dean sent Benny the apartment's address.

Hmm. Benny. He did sound like a nice guy. This could be good. This could take his mind off of Cas and maybe slap a little sense into his conflicted heart. Dean smiled to himself, thinking about dinner and southern accents. It would be good. He would _make_ it good.

o o o

Dean smoothed down his black button-up. That and his good jeans should be okay. It was just dinner, right? He didn't know what Benny was thinking, but if he wanted Dean to pick, then they'd go to the Roadhouse. Jo would be there, and if it was a complete bust, she could help him stage a getaway. She-

 _Knock, knock, knock_. Nerves flooded Dean's system. _Don't fuck this up, Winchester,_ he could hear Jo commanding.

He opened the door and green eyes clashed with blue. Fuck. Benny's eyes weren't as intense as Cas', a little more of a sky blue, opened wide. Still, Dean saw a flash of raven hair and cupid's bow lips in his mind and quickly shoved _him_ away.

Instead, he focused on Benny. He was attractive, there was no doubt about that. His smile was easy, and his trimmed beard covered a sharp jaw. He was burly, but not intimidating. In fact, his stance was open and inviting, as if to say _I'll take care of you_.

"Wow," Benny breathed. Dean's brow furrowed. "Jo said you were hot, but..." his eyes darted down Dean's form and he chuckled. "Yeah, wow."

Dean didn't blush, but a stupid grin formed on his face. "I could say the same to you," he replied easily.

There was a little pause. "Ready to go?"

"Absolutely." Dean shut his door and followed Benny to his car.

Talk was easy between them. There wasn't much of an electric charge in the air, but it was comfortable. He was easy to get along with, and Dean liked putting a smile on his face.

They pulled up to Lafitte's Bar and Grille, and flashes of memory stung Dean's mind: he and Cas walking side by side out the doorway, their hands brushing on the bar, soulful blue eyes meeting his with a flirtatious smile. Fuck. _Concentrate, Winchester._

"You ever been here before?" Benny asked, opening the door for Dean.

"A few times," Dean answered with a tight smile. He walked purposely towards a booth and sat facing away from the bar.

"I hope you like it. I created the menu." Benny grinned, and Dean looked shocked.

"Really?"

"Yeah. My last name's Lafitte, and my grandfather owns the place." Dean could tell that he wasn't boasting, it was simple honesty. "I prefer working in the kitchen though."

Dean tried the burger and Benny got the deluxe chicken sandwich. They talked about their mutual affinity for cooking, and Dean told him about the Roadhouse and how much Benny would like the fries there.

Dean learned that Benny had been a fisherman originally. Dean was impressed; he could appreciate another working man. He liked the Dallas Cowboys, which earned him brownie points in Dean's book. And he loved reading.

"There's one thing you should probably know," Benny said nervously, setting down his sandwich. Dean leaned forward. "I was married."

Dean blinked a few times. That was... unexpected. He did say "was", though, so Dean wasn't the other man this time. Shit, _stop thinking about that._ "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Benny shrugged. "Andrea and I weren't meant to be. I figured out that women weren't my cup of tea, and we parted ways as friends." He shook his head. "She's a great girl, though, and we still check up on each other every so often." Benny chuckled. "Just wanted to let you know up front."

Wow, Benny was so emotionally competent. It was impressive, to say the least. "That's so... _noble_ of you," Dean said, still surprised.

Benny grinned. "Don't worry," he picked up his sandwich. "I won't grill you about your personal life right now."

Dean laughed nervously. He was most definitely not going to unload his shit onto this guy. It would doubtlessly scare him away. Benny could probably see his discomfort and changed subjects, asking about his job.

Dean suppressed his breath of relief and started in on the garage. He told him about how he and Jo grew up together, about all the cars he liked to fix, and about his love of 60's classics.

Benny perked up at that. "I have something to show you, then," he smiled, snatching up the check before Dean had time to reach for it.

They were in Benny's car in record time, and Dean was a bit confused. Benny drove a 2012 Hyundai Equus, hardly a classic. And then he did something completely unexpected- he drove right up to Garrison Art Gallery.

He remembered Cas talking animatedly about his job as an art curator, emphasizing Garrison's eclectic taste and wide variety in their art. Dean swallowed thickly. He wouldn't be here on a Saturday night. He'd surely be with Sam or something. Curators didn't work late on the weekends, right?

He sat in Benny's car for so long that the other man made it to the other side of the car and opened his door for him. "I know that you're probably not a big fan of art galleries," Benny said as Dean exited the vehicle, "but I think you'll like this."

They walked in, and Dean's jaw dropped to the floor. The exhibit's theme was 60's vintage cars. There were paintings everywhere, from a 1969 cherry-red mustang to a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTE. Dean's eyes were wide as saucers as he took in the angles of the beautiful machines immortalized in paint. Some were vantage point views, looking through the windshield at a never ending road, and some were abstract, with the back wheels fading into the distance as if transcending space.

"Holy shit," Dean murmured, wandering aimlessly through the gallery.

"Thought you'd like it," Benny grinned from ear to ear. Dean hadn't even noticed that Benny twined their fingers together.

They meandered around the large room, Dean rattling off facts about each subject of the paintings. He was telling Benny about the top speed of a '66 Camaro when he stopped dead in his tracks.

A wide canvas hung pristinely on the wall, not as big as some of the paintings, but big enough to be noticed. Dean's heartbeat sped up and his eyes darted over every inch of the painting. It was definitely a realistic style, with the sleek black paint captured perfectly. The subject was a '67 Chevy Impala, cruising down an asphalt road. The driver's face was hidden in deep shadow, but a jacketed arm perched on the open window frame casually. The arm had his watch on it.

In the bottom right corner was neat handwriting, almost small enough to miss. "Novak."

"I like this one," Benny said. He probably said more things, but Dean wasn't listening. Cas painted this, Dean was sure of it. He painted Dean's car, with Dean driving it. This was on fucking display in a _nice_ art gallery.

The gallery was full, but Dean still heard a quiet gasp come from the back of the room. In the doorway of a little hall was none other than the artist himself, gaping at Dean. Dean, holding Benny's hand and standing right in front of the Impala painting.

Benny noticed Dean staring at Cas, and Cas turned swiftly and strode back into what Dean presumed was his office. "You know him?" Benny asked.

Dean cleared his throat. "Friend of my brother's... I'll be right back." Dean let go of Benny's hand and marched towards the hallway, disappearing in the shadow.

There were several doors, and after less than a minute of searching, he found "Castiel Novak" on a brass plate beside one. Without bothering to knock, Dean pushed it open. Cas was standing in the middle of the small office facing the opposite wall, fingers laced tightly in his hair. He heard the door slam and whirled around.

"Thanks for knocking," he spat, surprising Dean with the amount of malice in his voice.

"What are you so mad about?" Dean asked bitterly, taking a defensive stance.

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're parading your new boyfriend around my art gallery!" Cas shoved some papers into a little messenger bag.

Dean wanted to calm himself, tell Cas that Benny wasn't his boyfriend and that it wasn't his idea. Instead, he provoked Cas further. "What, you jealous?"

"Of him?" Cas grit his teeth. "Hardly. I thought you had better taste, Dean."

"What, like you?" Dean took a step towards Cas. "You think you're better?"

"Maybe I do!" Cas retorted. "Maybe I'm the better choice!"

"You're with my brother!" Dean's voice rose.

"Not for long!"

Both men were silent, heart beats racing. Dean's hands were shaking. His face was flushed and despite the yelling, he wanted to devour Cas. He was _feeling_.

But more importantly, what did that mean?

The anger seemed to drain from Cas, and he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I just..." he continued. "I just can't do this anymore. I can't be with him when I don't love him. I want someone else." A mixture of anger and hurt crossed his face again. "But apparently that ship has sailed."

Dean's blood rushed in his ears. "Did you paint that Impala?" he asked. Cas' face flushed in embarrassment. "Did you paint me as the driver?" Cas was silent again, staring Dean down with shining sapphire eyes. Something dawned on Dean. "Did- did you organize the exhibit because of me?"

Cas huffed and looked away. "Maybe," he muttered.

Heat flooded Dean's body. He didn't know Cas cared so much. He knew that he and Cas had some sort of profound bond or something, _body and soul_ , but he always thought it was one of those weird physical fixations. He thought he was the only one who was truly in deep.

"He's not my boyfriend," Dean blurted.

"What?" Cas tilted his head.

"I said," Dean strode forward, closing the distance between them, "he's not my boyfriend. It was a blind date. I was trying to get over you."

Cas was so close that Dean could feel the heat of his skin. "How's that working for you?" Cas whispered.

"Horribly."

In a split second, Dean's lips were crushed with Cas'. A feeling of completeness rushed through him. However wrong this was, it felt so much more _right_. He never believed in destiny before, but Cas had a gravitational pull, and he couldn't help but be pulled in.

Dean untucked the back of Cas' dress shirt and pressed his fingers into the heated flesh, earning a groan from the blue-eyed man. His fingers pulled at Dean's short hair.

Dean pulled away for a breath. "Fuck."

"Yes," Cas growled, pushing his hips roughly into Dean's.

That did it. Dean's lips moulded themselves around Cas' as he fumbled with the dress-shirt buttons. Cas did the same, pushing the black button up off Dean's shoulders and to the floor. The belt on Cas' slacks snapped as Dean tore it off, quickly followed by the offending pants. Cas pushed Dean's jeans down and both men kicked off their shoes.

Cas once again pushed his hips into Dean's, breathy gasps falling from their lips. "Dean," the shorter man pulled him off by the hair. In a very serious voice, he said, "I need you to fuck me."

With a growl, Dean spun Cas around and bent him face first over the office desk. This was most definitely one of his fantasies, and he needed to stop thinking about it so he wouldn't come right then and there.

"Bag, front left pocket," Cas inhaled sharply as Dean licked a stripe up his spine.

The Winchester grabbed the bag and retrieved the small bottle of lube, unsure whether to be weirded out or thankful. Cas ripped off his black briefs, and Dean's mouth watered. Definitely thankful.

Dean slicked up his fingers, and pulled Cas' cheeks apart. The blue-eyed man's forehead thunked against the table. Dean couldn't help but taste just a little before sliding a finger in completely.

He would have waited for Cas to adjust, but the man bucked back against him with a whimper. Dean wiggled his finger, adding a second one immediately. Cas hissed, but Dean crooked his fingers and the hiss morphed into a moan.

"Shh," Dean shushed, twisting his fingers expertly. Cas gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles were white. Dean pushed his fingers against Cas' prostate over and over until all he could hear was the other man whispering curses and Dean's name.

"Condom," Dean ordered.

Cas twisted to look back at him. "I'm clean."

Dean's breath hitched. "Me too."

For a moment, the only sound was Dean's heart beating. Then Dean's fingers twitched and Cas arched his back. Dean focused on the task at hand. He slicked himself up and nudged at Cas' hole.

"Please," he whimpered.

He didn't have to tell Dean twice. He pushed in slowly and bottomed out in one stroke. Dean's head fell between Cas' shoulders and the blue-eyed man let out a moan. "Shh," Dean shushed again.

Dean withdrew and slid all the way in again a little harder. Cas couldn't contain himself; he groaned, a little louder.

On a whim, Dean pulled both of Cas' hands to the small of his back and gripped his wrists with one hand. The other covered Cas' mouth. "Don't want your guests to hear us," he breathed. Cas' answering whimper was stifled by Dean's hand.

Dean pushed into Cas again, and the new angle allowed him to hit his prostate directly. Cas practically vibrated with need. Dean's grip on his hands and mouth didn't allow him to move at all. The way he was clenching around Dean reassured him that Cas liked this, though.

Dean set a hard, steady pace, but it sped up quickly. Cas was hot and tight around him, and made the most beautiful mewling sounds under Dean's hand.

It was an embarrassingly short time until Dean felt fire pooling in his stomach. "Cas," he grunted into the man's shoulder. "So close."

Cas nearly sobbed, ready to fall off the edge. Dean bit down on Cas' shoulder and the man fell, shriek muffled behind Dean's hand. He clamped down tightly on Dean and the Winchester fell too, bolts of lightening shooting up his spine.

Dean let go of Cas' hands and mouth as he came down, resting his forehead between the man's shoulder blades. Cas didn't move. He looked like he had melted into the desk. Dean kissed down his spine lightly before pulling out, both men wincing at the feeling.

"Cas?" Dean asked the unmoving man. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"Fuck yeah," Cas mumbled against the desk. Dean chuckled and pulled him to his feet.

The shorter man leaned against Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist. Dean carded his fingers through Cas' hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "C'mon, we have to put clothes on." Cas groaned but complied, pulling on the garments over heavy limbs.

They were both dressed, and Dean didn't really know what to do. It hadn't even been ten minutes in that office. Benny was outside and Cas was still technically with Sam and they had actually _had incredible sex_ for the first time since that fateful Sunday night.

Cas leaned against the desk after wiping it down as best as he could. His deep blue eyes met Dean's, and something passed between them. Dean gathered Cas into his arms again, nosing gently across his temple.

Cas mumbled something into Dean's shirt. "Hm?" Dean asked.

He took a big breath. "Don't leave me, okay?"

Dean tilted Cas' head up to meet sapphire eyes, something pulling violently in his chest. "I can't leave you," he said almost painfully. "However hard I try, I can't. And I don't want to." _I love you._ Fuck.

Cas pulled him down for a kiss, tracing Dean's cheekbone with his thumb. This kiss wasn't comforting, exactly. It was a completely different feeling from Benny. It was more like relief, like sitting down after a marathon or walking inside a warm house after hours in the snow. Dean hadn't known he was missing something in his life until Cas was there. Now, he couldn't imagine going on without having him.

Neither of them heard the door open, but both heard the familiar voice of one Sam Winchester, filled with anger and sadness. "What the hell?"

 **A/N:** Oh shiiiiiit! Review your feels!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Reviews are life, so thank you to those who reviewed!

So sad Dean might feel a little OOC, but I think a real man deserves to have the option to ugly cry all he wants. Especially if alcohol is involved.

 **Chapter Five**

Sam bolted before Cas or Dean could move.

"Sam!" Cas shouted, following after him.

"Sammy, come back!" Dean ran out to see Sam storm through the door, Cas hot on his heels. Benny stood in front of a tire portrait, observing the scene with a confused expression.

Dammit. Dean ran up to him. "I'm really sorry," he said, eyeing the front of the art gallery. Sam had stopped and looked like he was yelling at Cas. "I need to take care of something. Thanks for tonight."

Dean barely heard Benny's, "Call me if you need anything." He knew how inconsiderate he was being, but what could he do? He hurried out the door to the scene from hell.

"...another word!" Sam was shouting. He saw Dean approach him and turned to face the older Winchester, angry tears in his eyes. "And _you_ ," he said menacingly. "My own brother? How could you?" Behind the angry act, Dean could see how hurt Sam was, he saw betrayal and sorrow in his eyes. It was the face he wore every time Dean consoled him after another break up, the face that he tried hardest to wipe off every time. Now here he was, the cause of that face. It broke his heart.

"Sammy, I-"

"You what?" Sam spat. "What could you possibly say to fix this?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish. There wasn't anything he could say. He fucked up.

"That's what I thought," he said bitterly before whirling around and stomping towards his car.

"Sam, wait!" Cas called.

"No! I'm done with you!" He slammed the door and revved the engine, taking off far faster than was safe.

Dean stared at the fading tail lights, heat prickling behind his eyes. Cas sniffled quietly behind him. What in the ever loving hell did he do now? Go after Sam? Comfort Cas? Walk away?

The decision was made for him when Cas turned and marched back into the gallery and straight to his office. Dean didn't even want to think about that room right now. Instead, with shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and dialed Jo's number.

"Dean?" she picked up on the second ring. "I thought you were still on your date."

"Tequila," he replied, monotone.

There was a little pause. "Where do I pick you up?"

Dean started walking. He didn't want to wait in front of the art gallery. "Corner of Red Oak and Fifth," he muttered, nearing the crossroad.

"Be there in five." Jo hung up.

Dean stood under the street lamp, trying very hard to keep it together. Instead, he tried thinking of songs to keep him sane. Aerosmith was good _._ _You see me crying, please say you'll stick around._ _And I got to be your lover, hon, let me take you to town..._

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Maybe Cheap Trick. _I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep_ _. I'm in too far, I'm in way too deep over you. You'll always be the one. You were the first, you'll be the last..._

Fuck, no. These were not the lyrics he needed right now. But no matter how hard he fought to keep them at bay, they unloaded in his mind, every sad song he'd ever heard _._ _Thought of you as everything_ _I've had but couldn't keep. Linger on, your pale blue eyes..._

Dean felt tears fall just as Jo squeaked to a halt. Her mouth fell open. "Jesus Christ, Dean, you look like hell froze over." He climbed into her car and said nothing, staring at his shoes. After a second, she sighed and drove away.

Dean was barely aware of how fast she was going, or how freely the tears were falling now. All he heard was The Velvet Underground's fucking words in his head.

 _It was good what we did yesterday._

 _And I'd do it once again._

 _The fact that you are married,_

 _Only proves, you're my best friend._

 _But it's truly, truly a sin._

 _Linger on, your pale blue eyes._

"Dean? Dean, we're here." He almost jumped out of her car, walking straight in after the twist of her house key. He knew where the tequila was.

Jo looked worried. Dean didn't cry like this, not ever. He heaved huge breaths in between swigs directly from the tequila bottle, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. The liquid burned as it went down. Good. Dean knew he deserved it.

"Hey, come sit down," she said gently, pulling him towards the couch. It was maybe two minutes until half the bottle was gone and Jo pried it from Dean's hands.

"Cas. It's Cas, Castiel, he's the guy," Dean blurted out.

Jo's eyes widened. "He's... That's Sam's..." She took a gulp of tequila. "Shit."

"I fucked up," Dean laughed humorlessly. "I fucked up and I can't fix this. Sammy hates me and I don't even know about Cas. Fuck, Jo."

"Slow down," Jo said as Dean snatched the bottle back. "Tell me everything, from the beginning."

Dean cradled the alcohol in his lap, too upset to spare the details. "I saw him in a bar the Sunday that we took Sam to the hospital for the car thing. I didn't know him and he didn't know me, and I took him home. I slept with him. Yeah, sex and stuff, but I _slept_ with him, cuddling and shit. What even is that?" He hiccuped.

"He was in my head for a week. You saw, I was a fucking zombie. I didn't want anyone else ever again, just him. And then, wouldn't ya know, Sammy brings him to brunch."

Realization washed over Jo's face. "That's why you were so angry."

"I went out to yell at him for cheating on Sammy, but they broke up or somethin' for a day, and that's why he went home with me. And then he tol' me he din' regret it and that he felt somethin'." He began to slur, half a bottle of tequila kicking in. " _Feelings_ , Jo, fucking _feelings_."

He took another gulp before Jo wrestled the bottle back and set it out of his reach. "Was that it?"

"No!" Dean waved an arm. "Then we kissed in Bobby's yard and it was amazing and then I punched the car! And then Cas fucked up his car and brought it to th' garage and he was all sad and fightin' with Sam and I took him home and we talked and kissed and he's fucking perfect," he rambled. "Then you set me up with Benny but there was no _spark_ , ya know? He's cool an' all, but Cas is just _incredible_." Dean pulled a pillow into his lap.

"I tol' Benny I like cars and he took me to the _one place_ I thought we wouldn't go."

"The art gallery... by Red Oak and Fifth," Jo said. It wasn't even a question.

"Cas is the cura'or and picks all th' art and it was a classic cars exhibit, and..." Dean trailed off, fresh tears springing to his eyes. "And Cas painted me in Baby. He painted me and hung it up in a fancy gallery." Jo's mouth fell open.

The rest of the night came out in a rush. "I left Benny and found Cas and he was mad but he tol' me he was gonna break up with Sam and then we had sex in his office but Sam found us after and I wen' after him but Sam was yellin' and he hates me and I love Cas, I love him, I love him so much..." Dean buried his head in the pillow to cover his heaving sobs.

Had Dean not been drunk, he would be mortified at all this. The last time Dean cried this hard was when his mom died. He was eight. Dean Winchester was a tough son of a bitch that would rather use bar rags than band-aids and would eat his cereal with whiskey just to prove a point. Apparently, the extent of his willpower fell short in regards to this captivating man with blue eyes.

Jo took another swig of tequila, silent. That's what Dean expected. There was no solution to this situation. Maybe he could move to Tibet and become a monk or something.

"Sleep here tonight, okay?" Jo grabbed the blanket without waiting for an answer. "We can figure all this out tomorrow at brunch."

Dean lay down without protest. He wasn't sure when he went to sleep, only that the fuzziness in his brain eventually turned to blackness.

o o o

Dean's eyes were almost crusted shut. He rubbed at them and winced at the horrible pounding in his head. Chugging over half a bottle of tequila was probably a bad idea, regardless of what his situation was. Hindsight 20/20.

With some struggling, Dean sat up and pulled his shoes on. Where were his socks? Didn't really matter. It was almost time for Sunday brunch and Dean was going to get the hell out of there.

How he managed to remove himself from Jo's house at 7:30 am without waking her was beyond him, but he thanked any god willing to listen that she hated mornings. Had she woken up, Dean would have been helpless to resist her, and he was most definitely _not_ going to brunch. It would be the first one he missed without accepted reasoning since John died.

Dean walked the six miles from Jo's house to his own apartment as quickly as he could with a hangover and heavy conscience. He dragged himself into the shower and set it to freezing, because maybe he was a little masochistic.

It was almost 10:00 when Dean decided that he couldn't mope in his apartment anymore. He wanted to, more than anything, but if he stayed, Jo would get Ash to locate him through damn GPS in his phone that he didn't yet know how to turn off.

With his coat collar turned up, Dean exited his building sans cell phone and drove his baby to the one place that had any hope of taking his mind off things.

Jo would inevitably come search the garage, so Dean parked in the back lot behind the junkers and locked the door after him. He felt a little better in his motor oil-smeared coveralls, working up a sweat on that damn Cavalier. Anything for Cas.

As he unpacked the brand new axle and boot, Dean contemplated his options. He had to assume he was alone in this situation; Bobby and Ellen surely wouldn't react well if they found out that he was the one Cas cheated on Sam with. With that in mind, what would he do? Choosing who to talk to first felt like he was choosing between his family and his love.

Who was he kidding? Cas didn't love Dean. Sure, he _liked_ him a lot and enjoyed the sex and trusted Dean, at least enough to feel comfortable talking about his family. But love? In only two weeks? Dean was emotionally depraved enough to throw himself right overboard, but Cas was smarter. He'd know when something wasn't worth the effort.

He could talk to Sam, but the thought of hearing his baby brother tell him what he already knew, that he was selfish and he _hated_ him, make him want to hurl into the engine. Sam wouldn't forgive him. If Dean was in Sam's position, he wouldn't forgive himself either. He should've had the willpower to walk away the second he found out who Cas was. He should've had the decency to pass his broken car onto Kevin, and to tell Benny that no, they were not going into that gallery no matter how good the exhibit was. He should've been a better brother.

Tibet was his best option, but he'd have to fly on a plane to get there. Pity.

"Dean?" Jo's voice was muffled behind the shop's front door. "Open up!" As quietly as he could, the Winchester rolled under the workbench in the corner and slid into the tiny space between one of the large machines and the wall.

He heard some shuffling, then the door burst open. Of course Jo picked the lock. She was Jo. "I know you're in here, Dean," she said, voice stern. Dean held his breath. It was cowardly, hiding from his best friend and adoptive sister whom he already unloaded everything onto. "It's no use hiding, you jackass, I see the new axle out here." There was more shuffling, and Jo looked under the workbench. A few inches towards the right and she would have seen him, but Dean kept perfectly still.

She huffed, withdrawing from the space. "Sam's not a brunch either." Dean almost let out his breath, but stayed silent. No chance of having to face him there, that was good. But he'd have to face his family, and he could barely look at himself in the bathroom mirror. "You gonna leave me alone with those two?" Jo opted for the guilt trip. That would ordinarily do it for Dean, but he squeezed his eyes shut and didn't move.

After over three minutes of quiet, Jo sighed and left, locking the door behind her. Dean sagged against the wall, hating himself a little more.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you, hellosweetpea, for your emotions! That's how you know you're doing the right thing with a story- when keyboard smashing comes in. (:

And now, Dean actually confronts some of the shit that's going on.

 **Chapter Six**

On Monday, Dean almost called in sick. He'd be facing both Bobby and Jo, and that thought scared him shitless. Nevertheless, he had a living to make.

The door was unlocked when Dean arrived at the garage, which was unusual. He was there first almost every day. His steps were cautious as he went to retrieve his coveralls and clock in.

"Been wondering if you were gonna show up today," a familiar gruff voice came from the desk across the room.

"Hey, Bobby," he said, mentally cursing his guilty tone.

Bobby glared at Dean and pointed to the chair on the other side of the desk. Dean sat, looking anywhere but at Bobby. "Jo wouldn't tell us what happened yesterday," he said, folding his arms, "but she said it was bad. And if it's bad enough to skip Sunday brunch, I think I need to know something."

Okay, telling Jo was one thing, but he was not discussing his sex slash love life with his father figure. That was just... no. "I can't, Bobby," Dean rose. "I can't talk about it, and I don't want to. Just let me fix cars today, okay?" Before Bobby could snap at him again, Dean ran out of the office and straight into Garth.

"Hey Dean!" he greeted the Winchester brightly, then frowned. "I can feel some bad energy around here. You okay?"

Dean growled in frustration and pushed past Garth, beelining to the Cavalier. Kevin wandered in after Garth, and Ash and Jo came in after him. Dean avoided eye contact with Jo as well, and she didn't come over and rip him a new one, thank god.

Dean shoved headphones in his ears and blasted AC/DC as loud as his ears could take. He looked at the playlist before hand- no sad songs to be found. It was unlike him to wear headphones while he worked, but it acted as a stop sign to others. _I'm listening to something, and it's not you for a reason._

Towards the end of the day, Jo approached Dean from behind, the sneaky bitch. "Are you ever going to speak to me again?" she asked, Dean rocketing ten feet in the air.

"Jesus H. Christ, Jo," Dean clutched at his chest. "Don't scare me like that."

Jo scowled at him. "Serves you right for scaring me. You've been acting like a ghost. You need to man the fuck up."

Dean mumbled under his breath, staring down at the Cavalier's axle like it held the answers. He knew he needed to. He needed to talk to Sam and at least try to repair the damage he had done.

"How do I do it?" he asked from the ground, avoiding eye contact.

The blonde sighed and crouched next to Dean. "Look, ordinarily I'd tell you that you're a colossal douchenozzle and being the 'other guy' in your own brother's relationship is the lowest of the low," Dean cringed away from her. It sounded horrible in his head, but hearing it from his own best friend was physically painful.

Jo must have seen his face, because hers softened. "There's a 'but' here, I'm getting to that." She put a hand on his arm. " _But_ , I saw how you were Saturday night, and I've never seen you so broken up before. Seriously, the last time you cried like that-"

"Was when my mom died, I know," Dean murmured, eyes fixed on the ground.

Jo looked a little guilty, but continued. "I know how you are, and I think you're punishing yourself enough as it is, and I don't need to help with that. This is not a normal case. So you need to fix this, but please, don't," she huffed. "Please don't run yourself into the ground. Don't shut us all out like you did after John. Just stay with us, okay?"

The little speech didn't really make Dean feel better about himself, but the knot of alone-ness that sat heavy in his chest loosened a little. "If I man the fuck up," he turned to Jo, "will you take my last shift?"

Jo looked at him skeptically. "You're not gonna go hide in your apartment? I can break in, you know I can."

A corner of Dean's mouth pulled up. "I know you can. I'm gonna go talk to Sammy, actually."

Jo ruffled his hair. "I'll put the Cavalier away. She looks about done."

Dean smiled up at her and crushed her into a hug. "Thanks for dealing with my shit," he muttered into her hair.

"I'll always be here to deal with your shit. Now go on, your life isn't going to fix itself."

The Winchester washed up as best he could before climbing into the Impala in a fresh pair of jeans and t-shirt. He didn't bother calling Sam because his brother wouldn't pick up, that's for sure. Instead, he drove to the cute little neighborhood that Sam could afford a house in with his rising position in that new law firm a few miles away.

There was a dark pit in Dean's stomach, but he forced his feet up the walkway and to the door. _Ding dong_. The bell seemed too loud to him, and he put his thumb over the little peep hole in the door. If Sam saw immediately that it was Dean, he might not answer. But if he wasn't sure...

"Who is it?" Sam called hesitantly behind the door.

"It's Dean, please don't walk away," Dean said hurriedly. There was a long pause. "Sammy?"

"What do you want?" Sam asked quietly.

"I just want to talk, and then I'll go away, I promise."

Pause. "Okay."

The door didn't open. "What, you gonna be Elsa now?" Dean smiled weakly at the door. Sam apparently didn't find his joke funny. "Right, yeah, okay." Dean leaned against Sam's door. "I know you probably hate me, and you should because I'm a huge asshole."

"Dean-"

"No, Sam, lemme say this. I need to." Dean waited for an answer. When there was none he continued. "I fucked up, Sam. None of this should've happened. I should've been a better brother to you. You deserve better, and I'm so sorry." He took a much needed breath. "I don't care if you call me a girl for this, but you're everything to me, Sammy. You're all I really have left, and I can't lose you. I can't erase any of the shit I did, and I don't deserve your forgiveness, but you're my baby brother and I fucking love you and I'm so damn sorry."

There was a long, agonizing silence before Sam spoke. "I don't hate you, Dean," he said. The knot in his chest loosened a little more, and he heaved out a shaky breath. "I don't exactly forgive you, but I will. Eventually."

"Thank you, Sammy," Dean choked, tears welling in his eyes.

"Are you crying?" Sam sounded incredulous.

Dean swiped at his eyes. "No, shut up."

The door didn't open, but Dean heard a little thump. Presumably Sam leaning against it. "I was going to break up with him anyway," Sam sighed. "We didn't love each other. It wasn't working."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. He was torn between _You deserve better_ and _Oh thank god._ "I'm still sorry," he went with.

"I know," Sam said, the slightest bit of a smile in his voice. "Just... give me a little time, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, of course," Dean stuttered, turning. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Dean?"

The older Winchester stopped. "Yeah?"

"I could never hate you."

Those five words almost brought a fresh wave of tears to Dean's eyes. Damn, he felt like he was PMSing for how much he'd been leaking the past few days. "Thanks, Sammy," Dean murmured. He waited a few minutes, and when Sam didn't say anything else, Dean went back to his car.

He drove home, trying to make sense of all of these whirling emotions in his head. Sam didn't forgive him, but he didn't hate him. That was so much more than Dean hoped for. He was on thin ice, but he wasn't drowning. He just had to wait, and show Sam that he really was sorry. But how did he show that? Did that mean staying away from Cas? He wasn't sure if he could do that.

He probably wouldn't die without Cas' presence, but he'd be miserable. He'd seen the man two days ago, hell, he'd slept with him two days ago, but with the whole thing that happened after... Every hour was agonizing.

That was assuming Cas wanted anything to do with him at all. He probably didn't. Dean had charged into his life and fucked everything up. Cas _had_ participated willingly... But Dean still felt like it was his fault. Everything was, usually.

He still needed to talk to him, regardless. He could just call, and- shit. Through everything that had happened, he never got Cas' number. And he was most definitely not going to ask Sam for it. He would just drive to Cas' house right now, knock out two birds with one stone.

The little 70's style neighborhood was quiet. He remembered exactly where the modern house was, and he pulled up in the empty driveway.

The walk to Cas' front door felt a little different than the walk to Sam's. The heavy weight of guilt sat in his gut, but his heart was racing, his hands shaking. He wanted to see him again so badly, even if those beautiful features were frowning at him.

Dean rang the doorbell and waited. "Cas?" Nothing. He tried again. "Cas, it's me, please open up. I just want to talk to you." Still nothing.

Dean waited a moment more before walking to the garage and knocking soundly. "Cas, just let me talk to you, just for a minute." Not a sound from within.

Running across the top of the garage was a tiny thin window, and with some painful maneuvering, Dean peered inside. Cas' car wasn't there. So he wasn't home. Maybe he was still at the art gallery.

Dean drove there immediately, only to find the lights off and a sign that said, _Closed temporarily for repairs._ Dean snorted. That was a lie if he'd ever seen one.

So Cas wasn't as his house, and he wasn't at work. How in the hell did Dean talk to him now? He could always try again tomorrow... but he felt the urgent need to fix things _now_.

Dean drove back home because he didn't know what else to do. If he was in Cas' position, what would he want most? If Dean had been dating someone and sort of seeing that someone's brother on the side, what would comfort him when it blew up in his face? For Dean, it was obvious. Family. He'd want Sammy there with him to assure him he wasn't crazy. Maybe what Cas needed was family.

He knew what he was going to do. Dean debated about calling Ash, but he didn't want to drag anyone else into this. Instead, he got out his own laptop and began research.

So Lucifer was in court or jail or whatever, Michael was not in a good place with Cas, and Anna was potentially in Paris. That left Gabriel. Cas said he was MIA, but no one was _really_ MIA. Not to Dean's research.

First, Dean looked up the Novak Patriarch's obituary to see if there were any family pictures. There was, good. He then googled each brother's name, until the images matching Gabriel Novak most definitely matched the shortest of the Novak men. Now that he knew this man was definitely Cas' brother, he dug into the websites that Gabriel was mentioned in.

Dean found out that Gabriel worked for a television station, pretty high up on the food chain. He was mentioned for his cooking competition shows recently added to the channel and subsequent tripling of the channel's viewers. On the website for the channel, Dean finally found a phone number.

He called it immediately. After three rings, he heard a casual, "Yello?"

"Uh, hi, is this Gabriel Novak?" Dean tried to sound confident.

There was a pause. "Who's asking?"

"I'm Dean, I know your brother, Cas. Castiel."

"Did something happen?" Gabriel asked evenly. Dean could tell he was suppressing panic.

"No. Well, kinda. Nothing life threatening, just... yeah." Dean sucked in a breath. "I need your help."

"Explain," Gabriel commanded.

"It would be easier in person. I just need you to talk to Cas about some stuff. He's not home and some stuff happened and I think he's really upset. He could probably use a brother that likes him right now."

After a second, "Did you know that I live in San Francisco? That's a twenty-six hour drive to Sioux Falls. And a five hour plane ride, which I don't currently have tickets for."

Dean pinched his brow. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I fucked up and he needs someone. He needs you. I'll even buy your plane ticket, if I have to."

There was an uncomfortable pause, then a sigh. "Lucky for you, I'm in Minneapolis right now, less than four hours away. And also lucky for you, I love my baby brother. I'll be there shortly."

 _Click_.

 **A/N:** Reviews are love!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** dewdiamonds, Autumn Alchemist, and hellosweetpea, you're wonderful. You can most definitely call me R, and thank you so much for the love you've given me. (: (P.S. I may or may not be posting this from DallasCon it'sbeenthebestweekendever)

I guess I'll warn you: this chapter contains mentions of past rape. I want to emphasize that everyone deals with rape differently, and that no one should be judged by how they deal. We're in the home stretch now, only a few chapters to go (I think)! This won't be as long as the Raven, but I've got a few good ideas for new fics after this is finished.

Now, here comes Gabe!

 **Chapter Seven**

Dean tried going to Cas' house one more time before he gave up and waited for Gabriel to show. He paced around his living room, hoping the man could find his house with the meager directions Dean texted to him.

As he worried a line into the floor, he second guessed himself. What if Cas and Gabe didn't have as strong of a relationship as he thought? Maybe Gabe would laugh in his face after Dean told him everything. Maybe he'd tell him to go fuck himself, or worse, that he deserved all this. God, what if this was a mistake?

It was almost eleven when the doorbell ringed, startling Dean out of his worried haze. He rushed to open the door. The man was... short. It was definitely Gabe, that much was clear from the pictures Dean saw.

"Gabe?" he asked, just to make sure.

The shorter man raised an eyebrow and smacked a piece of gum. "Dean-o, I presume?"

"Uh, yeah, come in," Dean held the door wider for the older Novak. Gabe strut into Dean's apartment, giving the place a nonchalant once-over. Apparently he found it acceptable, and plopped down onto Dean's couch.

"So," he said conversationally, "you fucked up, huh?"

Dean pinched his brow and sat down across from Gabe. "Understatement," he muttered. "I just need you to help me."

Gabe leaned forward, his aloof gaze now cold. "Give me one good reason I should."

Dean picked at the hem of his shirt. "I love him," he said simply. "He's hurting, I know it, and I want it to stop."

Gabe settled back into the cushions, a contemplative look on his face. "Start from the beginning," he ordered, popping in a fresh piece of gum.

Dean told him everything. The older Novak didn't so much as twitch when Dean mentioned his and Cas' various sexual exploits. He didn't move a muscle. He sat there while Dean gave him a more coherent version of the drunken speech he had given to Jo just days ago.

"I went over to his house a few hours ago, and he wasn't there. Not at work either. I just need to apologize," Dean finished. "Can you help me?"

Gabe's stony exterior finally broke, and he massaged his temples. "This would be more exciting that Dr. Sexy if my brother wasn't involved in it." He glanced up at Dean. "I know where he is. I'll go talk to him. But Dean," he interjected when Dean sighed with relief. "You need to know a few things first, so you'll understand."

A tight knot formed in Dean's chest. That sounded ominous. "Okay," he said slowly.

Gabe sighed. "Cassie doesn't do one-night-stands." Dean just blinked. That wasn't so strange. A lot of people didn't do one-night-stands, but Cas said they had that body and soul connection, so maybe- "There's a reason he doesn't." Gabe watched Dean carefully. "The first time he went home with a man, he was raped. He was nineteen and almost dropped out of college because of it. He's had four relationships since then, and they've all ended badly. This one included, apparently."

After the open-mouthed shock passed, Dean grit his teeth and stared at his coffee table. A hot kind of anger unfurled in his gut. How _dare_ someone violate Cas like that? He wanted to find whoever it was and snap their neck. But more so, he wanted to wrap Cas up in his arms and promise him that he would keep him safe.

"My brother hasn't learned to taper his trust," Gabe continued. "If he decides that he still wants to see you after this mess has been resolved..." He shrugged. "I shouldn't have to warn you what the consequences are of you breaking his heart. Again."

"I don't intend to," he muttered. "I don't think I could."

The two were silent for a long stretch of time. "Don't expect a call until tomorrow at the earliest. Could take a few days."

"Yeah, of course," Dean said, jumping up when Gabe rose. "You have my number."

"Yup." The shorter man strode to the threshold and opened the door, then paused. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You look like someone ran you over with a monster truck. Avoid the whiskey before bed tonight." And then he was gone.

Dean did pass up the whiskey, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep on his own tonight. Instead of alcohol, he tossed back two sleeping pills and forced himself to relax in his bed until the pills pulled him into unconsciousness.

o o o

"Go home."

"But Bobby-"

"Don't ' _But Bobby_ ' me, ya idjit. You're worse today than you've been the last week. Go home and get some rest." Bobby shook his head. "I don't know what the hell has happened around here, but I won't have you keelin' over on the job, got it?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Fine." He had slept the past two night, dreamlessly, but he didn't feel rested. Gabe hadn't called or texted or anything. Neither had Cas. They were MIA and Dean was starting to think they had skipped town and weren't ever coming back.

His limbs worked on autopilot, driving himself home without getting into any accidents. When he was in his apartment, he paced around some more. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

After almost ten minutes, the Winchester forced himself to choke down a sandwich and sit on his couch. He took out his phone and fiddled with it. He had stared so much at his phone the past three days that he knew every little scratch and smudge perfectly.

His thoughts were mostly fixated on Cas and Gabe, but every so often, they wandered to Sam. He hadn't spoken to him since the conversation at the door. Dean was trying to give his brother some space, but Sam was always the person he talked to when he felt alone.

Calling couldn't hurt, could it? Just a _Hey Sammy, just saying hi, you can go back to your life now._ That was stupid, but he called Sam anyway.

It rang so long that Dean expected it to go to voicemail, but at the last second, a familiar voice answered the phone, out of breath. "Hey... Dean," Sam said. He sounded strange.

"Hey Sammy, I just wanted to say hi..." Dean paused. "You okay over there?"

"Oh yeah, good. Mhmm." Dean's eyes narrowed. It almost sounded like he had interrupted some special alone time, but he didn't ask about it.

"Well, that's good," Dean answered carefully. "That's all I was calling about."

Sam coughed. "Hope you're good too, I'll talk to you later!" _Click_.

Dean pulled his phone away from his face and stared at it incredulously. The fuck was that?

Just then it rang again, and Dean hoped Sam would tell him if he was being held at gunpoint or something, but an unfamiliar number popped up on screen. Dean hit the green button. "Hello?" he grunted after a second.

"Dean."

It was Cas. Fuck, it was Cas. Dean's heart leapt into his throat, and he felt like he might puke it out. Instead, he swallowed thickly and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. "Hey, Cas," he said awkwardly. "Uh..."

"Would you mind coming to get me?" the otherwise gravelly voice was soft, almost resigned.

"Yeah, of course," Dean replied automatically. "Where are you?"

Cas rattled off an address. "I'll be in the backyard."

"Okay." Dean rose and stuffed his wallet in his pocket. "I'm on my way,"

"Thank you," Cas murmured, and then the line went dead.

"What is going on?" Dean muttered to his keys as he got into Baby. First Sam was acting weird, then Cas called him out of the blue to come pick him up? It was an address that was out of the city, no less.

Dean drove in a haze of confusion. The address was almost forty minutes away from Dean's house, going into the woods. Why would Cas be out here? "You have arrived at your destination," the GPS let him know as he pulled into a long driveway.

The trees obscured most of the view, but when Dean pulled up to the house, his mouth dropped open. It was a huge, beautiful house. No, not a house, a manor or estate or fucking castle. He killed the engine and stepped onto the stone road that probably cost more to put down than a year's rent of Dean's apartment.

"Cas?" he called. Nothing. Cas said backyard, so Dean crept around the gigantic building, wrought iron gate swinging open easily.

The backyard went for miles. Maybe not literally, but it was even bigger than the house. The grass was weird... golf grass maybe? He stepped over the lawn carefully, as if every step cost him money. Green eyes scanned the expanse of land. Cas was nowhere to be found.

"Cas?" he called again. "I'm here. Where are you?"

"Up here," his voice was faint, and coming from one of the trees. Dean beelined for the biggest tree on the property and looked through the branches.

The sight made him smile, despite the tension of the situation. It was a treehouse, sturdy-looking but roughly made. A complete contrast to the estate behind him. It was placed in a way that the thick foliage covered it from view of the house.

"Are you up there?" Dean asked.

After a second, Cas' voice floated down to him. "The ladder is on the other side."

Dean circled around and found a crude plank ladder. It must have been at least a little sturdy, if Cas was up there. The Winchester climbed until he reached the hatch, and found it unlocked.

Though the outside looked rough, the inside looked amazing. The floor had several carpets strewn about, with beanbag chairs sitting casually near a huge bookcase filled with worn novels. Framed drawings hung on the walls, and there was a cooler in the corner, though it was empty and the top was knocked off.

"Hi, Dean." Cas was curled into a ball on top of the green beanbag, clad in ratty sweatpants and an old, faded t-shirt. He was looking at a little tear in the fabric.

"Cas," Dean whispered. Did he go to him? Did he stay away? Did he apologize now or let him talk first? It was outside the gallery all over again. "I missed you," was what came out instead.

A corner of Cas' lips pulled up. "Me too."

Pause. "Can I...?" Dean didn't know exactly what he was asking for, but Cas nodded. He decided to grab the blue beanbag chair and pull it across from the green one.

"My father never knew this treehouse was here," Cas said, glancing out the window. "I asked if I could build one, and he said it would make the land look cheap and unsightly. Luke helped me build it in the perfect place. I can see everything, but no one can see me until they're already here." They were silent a long moment.

Dean mentally berated himself. He had wanted nothing but to talk to this man for days, but now he couldn't even open his mouth.

"Gabe told you, didn't he?" Cas asked, eyes fixed back on his shirt. Dean nodded _,_ and the blue-eyed man sighed. "I don't tell anyone because I don't want them treating me differently, like you're about to."

"No I'm not," Dean began, but Cas cut him off.

"Yes, you will. Everyone seems to treat me like I'm made of glass, even if I don't tell them. That's why," he sucked in a breath, "that's why nothing's worked out for me. It didn't work with Sam because he thought I was fragile, even physically. No one's ever treated me like I'm strong. Until you."

Cas looked up to meet Dean's eyes, and Dean's heart nearly broke. There wasn't any sadness or hurt there, only resignation, as if this was expected. "When I met you, you were nice. Charming, like you always are," Cas chuckled humorlessly. "But even more than that, you were rough with me. And I loved it." He looked back down at the hem of his shirt. "You pushed me around and fought back when I pushed you. You didn't pity me or let me win because you were afraid I would break."

The Novak's cheeks were flushed. "My past does not define me. I'm over it. I'm a survivor, not a victim." Even as he said these words, tears formed in his eyes.

Dean couldn't hold himself back anymore. He wrapped Cas up in his arms and settled back onto the beanbag chair. He might have been gripping Cas too tightly, but the blue-eyed man just twisted his fingers in Dean's shirt and buried his head into Dean's neck.

"Now you know everything about me," he wiped his eyes dry, "and I know almost nothing about you. For all I know, you barely give a shit about me."

Dean couldn't help himself- he barked out a laugh. All he'd been doing for the past three days was praying like a man on death row that Cas would even speak to him. He cared more than he ever had, more than he understood how to care about someone. He was helpless when it came to the blue-eyed man.

"Can you really not see it?" Dean asked. Cas was silent. "I don't know if you've picked up on it, but I'm not so great with all this touchy-feely stuff," Dean drew circled on Cas' arm. This whole week had been a chick flick moment, why not add a little more on? "I cried more these past few days than I have since my mom died when I was eight," he forced out. " _And_ I'm admitting that. Out loud. Which really says something."

Cas pulled his head back to look at Dean, and _Jesus_ his eyes were so blue, so close to him again. "I called your brother because I knew that you were hurt, and I knew you needed someone even if that someone wasn't me. I-" Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "I fucked up, and that's all I seemed to do. And even if you never want to see me again after today, you need to know that you're not fragile or weak or any of that bullshit. When I saw you in that bar, you were so confident and passionate, and you still are, and god, Cas, I just can't-"

Cas gripped the back of Dean's neck and crashed their lips together. The Winchester made a very un-manly sound and twined his limbs with Cas', unwilling to let go. If Cas would have him, someone would have to pry him from his cold, dead hands before he'd leave him.

"Shut up," Cas muttered before diving back in.

Dean complied.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Again, thank you to all who reviewed. Reviews are the reason I write.

So this chapter is pretty short, but I couldn't find it in me to fill it with meaningless fluff. They say what they need to, and then surprise! For all of you who were waiting for it. Enjoy and review. (:

 **Chapter Eight**

They stayed in the treehouse for a long time. Dean decided to tell Cas everything about himself, to even any sort of pseudo-power balance Cas thought there was.

"My mom died when I was eight, in a house fire," Dean murmured. "I was trying to make spaghetti-o's for Sammy, and I left the stove on. My dad barely got us out in time. For years, I blamed myself. I mean, I basically started the fire that killed her." Dean had come to terms with this fact a few years ago, but it still kind of hurt to talk about.

"My dad always tried to take care of us, but I think he blamed me in his mind too. I tried to be the perfect son, to make up for everything. He was a detective, and he started taking the harder jobs. He travelled, and I took care of Sam. I got my GED, but Sam was too smart to _not_ go to college, so I worked to pay tuition. The genius got a huge scholarship, but it wasn't enough.

"Then, almost six years ago, Dad got into a car wreck. I mean, he went after serial killers, and he ended up dying in a car wreck. He always thought he'd go out in a blaze of glory, I think, but no. Just T-boned by a drunk driver. That's when family brunch started.

"I'm sure Bobby and Ellen did it to keep an eye on me. I don't know what would happen if they hadn't. But I took up cooking and worked at the garage and it seemed to work."

Dean shut his mouth. Cas' head was pillowed on Dean's shoulder, listening quietly.

"My only real relationship was with a girl named Lisa, when I got out of high school." Dean shook his head. "Lasted almost seven months, and then she broke it off and moved away. We never told each other that we loved each other. I just... didn't."

Dean wondered if Cas would reply, but he just stroked his thumb over the back of Dean's hand reassuringly. Dean closed his eyes. "I've had a lot of one-night-stands. Like a lot." Cas' thumb stopped. Dean continued in a rush. "That's why you were so different. I barely remembered any of their names, let alone the details of that night, but I remember every second of ours."

"What's my favorite color?" Cas asked, a tiny bit of teasing tinged his voice.

Dean smiled. "Hunter green."

"Favorite song?"

"Tie, between Simon and Garfunkel's 'Sound of Silence' and The Beatles' 'Can't Buy me Love.'"

Cas paused. "Birthmarks?"

Dean twisted his fingers around Cas'. "Five, that look like the little dipper, left inner thigh."

Cas paused even longer. "Hopes and dreams?"

Dean pulled his face back to look at Cas eyes. "To fly," he said simply.

Cas took a deep breath, and Dean could see the look on his face that he himself had worn too many times the last week. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

"I remember yours too," Cas cleared his throat. "Dark blue, tie between Led Zeppelin's 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues,' no birthmarks, but you have a scar on your left rib, and you want to see the world." Cas smiled. It was little, but it was beautiful. "Through teleportation, of course."

Dean grinned, and he couldn't help but kiss Cas again.

They settled down a few minutes later, just laying together. The sun was setting now, and a cool breeze blew in from the open window. Dean had almost nodded off when Cas' words snapped him to attention.

"What do you want, Dean?" his gravelly voice was laced with hesitation.

"You." His voice was nearly as low as Cas' from the almost-sleep. He cleared his throat. "I want you."

Cas disentangled himself from Dean's embrace and stood, cracking his back. Dean worried for a moment that he was about to get rejected, but Cas smiled back at him. "Let's try that." And that was good enough for Dean.

"Let's go home."

o o o

"I think I should apologize to Sam," Cas looked contemplatively out the window. "I want to now, before I lose the nerve."

Dean understood that. He had done the same thing just a few days ago. "To Sam's house it is, then."

It took a little longer to get to Sam's from the Novak mansion (that Cas told him he technically owned, but didn't like as much as his cozy apartment). A little over fifty minutes later, both Dean and Cas stood on Sam's doorstep. Dean's hands were sweating, and Cas couldn't stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"You should ring the doorbell," Dean suggested.

Cas pressed the button, but there was no sound from inside. Cas held his ear to the door and pressed it again. "I believe it's broken," he muttered. He drew out his wallet and dug inside one of the pockets, producing a key. "I also need to give this back," an uncomfortable blush spread across his cheeks.

The door was unlocked, and the two slipped inside. "Sam?" Cas called. "I'm here to apologize. Dean is here too." Silence. "Sam?"

"He's probably napping. The kid is dead to the world when he sleeps." Dean didn't want confirmation of that statement, and Cas graciously said nothing.

Dean strode to Sam's room, Cas trailing off behind him. "Sammy?" There was a thump behind the door and Dean pushed it open.

There on the bed, shirtless, sat Gabe. Both Cas' and Dean's jaws dropped. Sam then exited the bathroom, clad in a towel, and froze at the sight of the other two men.

They stared at each other for a beat, and then from Gabe: "Well, this is awkward."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** So it's been a while, I know, but sometimes life gets in the way of writing. Pair a little car wreck with writers block and pain meds and you get goose eggs for inspiration. My apologies for that. _But_ the good news is that I'm nearly done with this fic! Just another chapter after this one, maybe an epilogue, and then The End. My next fic is probably going to be Musician!Dean and Barista!Castiel with angst and love. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

This chapter is short, but it's basically a bridge to the big finale, which will be packed with fluff and feels. In this, all of the pieces fall into place.

 **Chapter Nine**

"Uh, hey guys," Sam backed closer to the bathroom doorway. "I didn't hear you come in."

"We thought you were asleep," Cas deadpanned.

"So, you two...?" Dean gestured between his brother and the older Novak.

Gabe leaned back, face calm. "A little bit, yeah. Got a problem with it?"

All this was a little too much to process completely, so Dean just shrugged. "However weird this is, I can't judge."

"Sam," Cas spoke up. "I really need to apologize to you."

The younger Winchester's features immediately became hard. "I don't know, Castiel, I-"

"Sam," Gabe spoke up softly. "Come here." Dean and Cas watched as Sam obeyed, crowding close to the older Novak. "How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"Still pretty shitty," Sam whispered, ignoring his brother and ex-boyfriend.

Gabe gave him a little half smile. "Elaborate for me? Tell me what would make you feel better."

Dean's heart warmed at the care in Gabe's voice. Maybe it was a big brother thing. Sam sighed. "I guess an apology would help," he grumbled.

Gabe touched his forearm. "Then let him do it. Don't close off again, got it?"

"Yeah, fine," Sam faced Cas again.

Dean's respect for Gabe had multiplied tenfold in the last thirty seconds. It was absolutely a big brother thing. Cas shut his previously opened mouth, and started. "I behaved like an absolute ass," he looked at the ground, and Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Regardless of my thoughts, I should have respected you more."

That was when Dean bowed out. He slipped silently from the doorway and strolled into Sam's kitchen, unsure of what to do with himself. This moment would be crucial. Sure, Sam was eventually going to forgive Dean because Dean was his _brother_ and practically _raised_ the kid, but Cas was the cheating boyfriend. If Sam didn't ever accept Cas' apology... Dean rubbed his eyes.

He wanted Cas in his life. He wasn't lying when he told him that being with him was what he really wanted out of all this. He hoped fervently that Sam at least didn't hate him.

About five minutes later, Gabe walked into the kitchen fully clothed, thankfully. He was sucking on a lollipop- where did he get that?- and resting his hip against the counter.

"Gabe?" Dean asked cautiously.

The older Novak looked at him, equal amount of caution in his eyes. "Yeah?" he said around the lollipop.

"Thanks." He gave him a little smile. "For everything."

After a minute, gabe pulled the candy out of his mouth. "I should be thanking you, Dean-o." Dean's eyebrows shot up. "It feels weird as hell to say this, but I really like your brother. _Really_ like him."

Dean made a face. "Yeah, that's kind of weird." Dean's brain was pretty much done for the day, so he didn't try to think about that too hard.

"I think it's an older brother thing," Gabe said, hopping up to sit on the counter. "For both of them."

"I think so too."

It was almost fifteen minutes until Sam and Cas walked into the kitchen. Dean's eyes widened. Both men had tracks of tear-stains down their cheeks, but they were smiling. To Dean's surprise, Cas came right up to him and slid his arms around his waist, pressing his face into the Winchester's neck.

Dean flattened his hands on Cas' back and looked at Sam with question in his eyes. Sam gave him a little nod.

"And the world spins on," Gabe grinned and stuck the lollipop back in his mouth.

o o o

It didn't just go back to normal.

Sometimes, awkward little tidbits about Cas' and Sam's relationship would slip out. Cas would freeze up and a Dean would just sort of cough and change the subject.

Dean didn't see too much of Sam for a while. They'd both go to brunch, and they both politely told the family that they were fine and they wouldn't discuss what had happened, at least for a while, and could they _please_ have some pancakes now because it's almost noon.

Jo thankfully wasn't distant from him, but now she was treating him like glass. She never mentioned anything about weeks from hell, or Cas. Dean was starting to understand Cas' distaste of being seen as fragile.

"Jo, would you stop?" Dean snapped at her one day after work. "I swear to god, the next time you ask me if I need something-"

"I'm just trying to help," she held her hands up in defense. "Even you gotta admit, it was really bad there for a while."

"It was bad," Dean admitted quietly, "but it's good now. It's getting better. So you can treat me like another human being now, thanks."

Jo paused, then punched him playfully in the arm. "Like you were ever human." Dean grinned.

Every so often, Dean and Gabe would meet at the Roadhouse for a drink. It was weird at first, but Dean needed to know how Sam was. And, as it turned out, Gabe was worried for Cas. It was like a brotherly check-up, and after a while, Dean grew to like Gabe. He was a little shit, but otherwise a pretty decent guy.

"How's Sam doing this week?" Dean asked about a month after the last incident.

Gabe sipped his beer and leaned back. "He's good. Thinking about talking to you soon, actually."

Dean perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has some stuff to tell you." Dean's face fell back into apprehension, and Gabe chuckled. "Relax, Dean-o, hell's not going to freeze over again."

Cas beat him to it, though. "I've been talking to Sam," he said one night.

Dean set his toothbrush in its little holder. "Yeah?" he wiped his mouth nervously.

Cas smiled and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist. "He's going to start talking to us again. He misses you."

"And I miss him like hell," Dean rubbed his arm absently. It was the longest he and Sam had gone without talking, _really_ talking. So when Sam called him after an excruciating two months of near-silence, Dean practically bolted to the door.

They sat at the Roadhouse bar with two whiskeys. Ellen promised to keep a little distance, so the two were free to talk.

Sam went first. "Been a while, huh?"

"You can say that again," Dean chuckled uncomfortably.

They sat for a moment, and then at the exact moment chorused: "I miss you."

"Bitch," Dean muttered.

"Jerk," Sam replied.

Then the conversation flowed freely, and the two switched to tequila.

"'M still sorry," Dean slurred after too much alcohol.

"Dude, stop apologizing," Sam hiccuped. "I din' love him and you do, so it's good." The younger Winchester grabbed a handful of Dean's flannel. "I love Gabe _so much_ Dean, and you love Cas. It's _meant to be_ ," he babbled.

Dean laughed loudly. "Such a girl," he downed more tequila. "Gabe's a good guy. He's a lil' shit, but he's good."

"I need someone like that, y'know?" he gestured randomly with his hands. "He's really take-charge and shit, and he can _do_ stuff and _make decisions_ and talk me down from my head. 'S that make sense?"

"I get you, man," Dean set his glass down, sobering a bit. "Gabe gets you like I do. You need someone to pull you back when you think too hard, which is fine, don't get me wrong, 's what got you into fancy law school."

Sam put his glass down. "And I know Cas is good for you, he's just like that. He settles you down, doesn't he? He gets you to lay all your emotional shit out on the table and deal with it. I've never seen you so happy."

"Same goes for you," Dean slung an arm around around his brother, still very drunk. "I fuckin' love you, Sammy."

Several fat tears rolled down from Sam's eyes. "I fuckin' love you too, Dean."

And the Winchesters cried together, wasted as all hell, until Ellen pulled them up from the bar and into the back room where they wouldn't make a scene. When the tears dried up, they reminisced about the good times they had growing up and sang old Bon Jovi songs until Ellen banged on the door.

They passed out some time after two and woke up feeling like absolute shit, but they felt like shit together.

The Sunday after, they drove to brunch together and Dean made Sam's favorite bell pepper omelettes. Their playful banter was back, and the surprised smiles on the rest of the family's faces were the most beautiful things Dean thought he'd ever seen. Next to Cas', of course.

A week later, Gabe was invited to brunch.

Dean was in the middle of pressing crepes the old-fashioned way when the doorbell rang. Bobby stood to answer it, and Dean grabbed his arm. "Keep an open mind, 'kay?" he asked. Bobby narrowed his eyes suspiciously before answering the door.

"Mr. Singer!" Gabe's voice rang like a bell all the way from the front door. "I love the place, very gothic-librarian." Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged.

"Hey Sam, hey Gabe," Dean called, giving them a nod of solidarity.

"Everyone, this is Gabriel," Sam began, the shorter man's hand secure in his. "Gabe, this is... everyone." One at a time, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo introduced themselves.

"So to clear everything up, Cas is with Dean and I'm with Gabe and everything is fine so Dean, what's for brunch?" Sam rushed in a hurry, hand clamping down hard on his boyfriend's.

"And more importantly, does it contain sugar?" Gabe rubbed soothing circles on the back of Sam's hand, providing a necessary distraction. Dean announced the presence of crepes loudly, and the subject of Gabe's strange arrival was put on the back-burner.

Dean served up the crepes with various fruits and sweet cream cheese, and Gabe looked up at him with crossed arms. "Dean-o, this looks like it has some sort of nutritional value."

Dean laughed and pulled out a single crepe stuffed with chocolate chips, a pile of whipped cream sliding slowly off the top. "Don't worry, I made you a heart attack on a plate."

When he set it down, Gabe took Dean's hand and, with comical tears in his eyes, said, "Bless your soul."

What was most surprising to Dean was how quickly Gabe became enamored with Ellen. She took all his quirky comments in stride, and he could tell that she wasn't put off by him. He listened with rapt attention as she told him stories, everything from hustling pool when she was eighteen to the piñata incident at Sam's tenth birthday party.

Bobby warmed up to Gabe when he talked to him quietly about his absent father. The older man could relate, and Dean saw that Gabe was being genuine. It probably stirred kinship feelings in the old man, and by the end of the meal, Bobby had a smile under his beard and a hand clapped on Gabe's shoulder.

Jo was charmed, simply because Gabe was such a spectacle. She learned quickly not to take anything he said seriously or credibly. At the end of the day, Gabe managed to make a stellar impression while remaining true to himself. No wonder his tv network was so popular.

"You comin' back next Sunday?" Ellen asked as they shrugged on their coats.

Twin smiles spread across Gabe and Sam's faces. "Yes ma'am!"

"And Dean?" Ellen called back to the kitchen. "Bring Castiel too. It's about time we had the whole family here."

Something pulled tightly in Dean's chest and he couldn't help himself; he grabbed Ellen around the waist and squashed her to him in a bear hug. "I love you boy, but I can't breathe," she wheezed, and Dean set her down. Jo was laughing and Bobby hid his face behind a book, and Dean didn't bother wiping the smile off his face.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** May I present to you, the end. A chapter packed with fluff and love so sweet that it'll clog your arteries. Seriously, prepare yourself.

There will be an epilogue, as requested. But for now, enjoy the last chapter. It's been a wild ride.

 **Chapter Ten**

 _November_

Dean was beginning to sweat under the lamp light. He thought laying down would make this whole ordeal easier, but it had been over an hour and his arm was asleep. "How much longer do I need to hold still?" he asked, trying not to move his stretched neck.

Cas had one pastel clenched in his teeth and another in one hand, swiping fiercely at a spot on the canvas. "Don't you dare move," Cas muttered around the pastel.

Dean was draped on Cas' couch, stark naked, in a pose similar to Adam's in Michelangelo's _The Creation of Adam._ He was laid out on his right side, elbow propping him up. He was looking over to the window as Cas had instructed to show off the column of his throat. Unlike Adam, Dean's right leg was bent, simultaneously hiding his manhood and making him more uncomfortable.

"Beautiful," the Novak murmured, meeting Dean's eyes. Cas had called him beautiful before, but it never failed to turn his face bright red and leave him fidgeting.

Even laying awkwardly on the couch in the chilling air, Dean loved every ounce of this man. Castiel Novak, who shouldered his pain and accepted his comfort and cuddled like an octopus when they woke in the mornings. Castiel Novak, who had fought tooth and nail to atone for his alleged wrongs in Dean's family's eyes, even when he was already forgiven. Castiel Novak, who was honest about his own flaws and took all of Dean's in stride.

"What are you grinning about?" Cas asked, eyes barely peeking above the canvas.

Dean didn't even know he'd been smiling. "I love you," he said without thinking.

Cas set down his pastels and climbed onto his tiny couch beside Dean, who scooted back to make room. "I love you," Cas' voice was soft, and his lips even softer.

Dean rolled Cas under him, and pastel-stained fingers twined through Dean's growing hair. He could feel Cas smile into their kisses, and he couldn't help but squeeze the man tightly.

Dean pulled away after a few minutes, breathing ragged. "This... won't be in the gallery, right?" he nipped at the skin of Cas' throat.

"It's- ahh- just for me," he pressed himself tighter to Dean, and the two forgot about the piece of art in favor of Cas shedding his clothes.

The next day, it was up in the gallery.

It received more praise than any other piece in the building, and the Novak had offers to buy it for ridiculous amounts of money. Dean was a tiny bit pissed to have his naked self literally on display for everyone, but he had to admit that Cas was a beautiful painter. He was drawn in a field of long grass right at sunset, which explained the lamp. He looked at peace, and Cas was so proud that Dean forgave him at once.

"Maybe I'll draw you naked next time," Dean whispered from the corner of the gallery.

Cas could only laugh.

 _December_

"Baby, it's cold outside!" James Taylor's smooth voice echoed around Cas' house at six o'clock AM. Christmas morning found Dean, already dressed and awake, simply vibrating with Christmas spirit.

"Cas-ti-EL!" Dean sang to the curled up form in their bed. "Wakey wakey! Time for presents!"

Cas moaned and buried his head under the covers. He was not a morning person. "Cas!"

"Dean, I appreciate your Yuletide enthusiasm, but can't it wait until _after_ the ass-crack of dawn?" Cas' voice was gravelly and only made Dean smile more.

"Nope!" he reached under the thick covers and scooped the blue-eyed man up into his arms. Cas cried out in surprise, clinging to Dean's neck like a barnacle.

"Dean Johnathan Winchester!" he yelled. "You put me down this instant!"

Dean dropped him unceremoniously onto the couch, then ran back to the bedroom to grab the duvet. Cas was still pouting when Dean tucked the down comforter back around him and presented him with hot coffee and sugar cookies.

"I'm still pissed," Cas grumbled, but sipped the coffee anyway.

Several members of the family were away this Christmas, so Dean and Cas were alone for a little while. Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Sam, and Gabe, as well as a few others had delivered presents to Cas' house a week earlier, and the two tore into them now.

"Why'd Gabe give me such a huge box?" Dean asked absently. "It's not even heavy. I wonder-" Dean stopped as the box came open. It was filled with colorful condoms and bottles of flavored lube. Of course.

"Is it as bad as candy thongs?" Cas snorted, holding up a plastic package that had a surprisingly small amount of candy in it. "There are ten in there."

Sam got them tickets to a Pearl Jam concert in January, Jo got them each a bottle of twenty-five-year-old scotch, Bobby gifted Dean a coffee table book about old cars and Cas one about Renaissance art, and Ellen gave both boys a two month free tab at the Roadhouse with a note that said, "Do not abuse this privilege."

Castiel had woken up, and the two were both giddy by the time they got to open each other's presents. "You open yours first," Dean said, dropping a tiny box onto Cas' lap and settling next to him on the couch.

The Novak peeled away the Santa wrapping paper carefully, a tiny rattling noise creasing his brow. It was a little box, and Cas drew out a long black string with a pendant at the end. "Sammy gave it to me for Christmas when we were real little," Dean watched Cas turn the Egyptian-like face over in his hands. "It's always been a big symbol of family for me, and I..." Dean rubbed his neck. "I want you to have it. You're my family now."

Cas looked up at Dean with watery, awe-filled eyes. "Was your intention to make me cry?" he asked, sniffing. "I love it." He put it on, and every few minutes, he'd touch it, as if making sure it was real.

"Now, your turn," he said after more coffee. "I hid it, actually. It's behind the broom in the laundry room, so I knew you wouldn't find it." He smirked, and Dean swatted at him before running to get the surprisingly long, heavy box.

"What the hell did you get me?" Dean maneuvered himself and the green paper-wrapped box onto the couch. It was a few feet long and flat, and Dean tore at the paper like there was no tomorrow.

It was a guitar. Dean loved guitars, and he beamed. But upon closer inspection... It was a Gibson Flying V, white, and it looked a little beat up. Definitely an older version, and- holy shit. In faded black ink was a signature. Dean could make out a "J" and an "H". "Is this...?"

Cas nodded his head eagerly. "James Hetfield's flying V, from Metallica's 1985 concert in Oakland." Dean's mouth fell open.

"What... How..." He cradled the precious instrument in his hands, running his fingers over the wood and metal. "Cas, this must have cost a fortune."

The blue-eyed man shrugged. "I know a guy who likes guitars. He also likes rare art pieces. The trade was more than worth it."

Dean laughed in astonishment. He set the guitar down carefully and then launched himself at his boyfriend. "Thank you," he kissed his jaw. "Thank you," he kissed his forehead. "Thank you," he kissed his mouth, hard.

They made out like horny teenagers under the duvet on the couch, with the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree casting a soft glow around the two.

"Merry Christmas," Dean breathed.

"Merry Christmas," Cas whispered.

 _January_

The new year was ushered in with a huge party at the Roadhouse. Everyone that Dean had ever met was there. Ash and Kevin from the garage were there, frequent customers Charlie, Garth, Bela, and Meg made an appearance. Even Cas' sister Anna and cousin Balthazar came into town. Rufus and Bobby grilled, Ellen and Jody Mills fussed over the decorations, and everyone was soon smashingly drunk.

A silver party hat perched in Cas' unruly dark hair, and he was currently sitting in Dean's lap, singing loudly to a song Dean didn't know. "Dean!" he exclaimed as if he'd forgotten Dean was there.

Dean was significantly less drunk than Cas, but he kind of liked watching his child-like behavior. "Yeah?"

"I made a decision," he said seriously. "You're the most attractive person at this party."

The Winchester laughed. "That award belongs to you, sweetheart." Cas squirmed when Dean nosed at his jaw.

"When are we leaving?" Cas asked after a moment.

Dean frowned. "The ball hasn't even dropped yet. Is something wrong?"

The Novak sighed dramatically. "I just really want to take your pants off, but it probably wouldn't be prudent to do it in front of all these people."

Dean's frown disappeared, and he kissed Cas. "Just a few more hours and we can both take everything off." The blue-eyed man giggled, and hiccuped.

An hour later, they were counting down.

"10! 9! 8! 7!" everyone yelled together.

"Dean?"

"6! 5!"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"4! 3!"

"I love you."

"2! 1!"

"I love you too."

"Happy New Year!" Cas cupped Dean's cheek and kissed him, lips surprisingly tender. They didn't see Jo pull Ash in, or Pamela sneak one on Charlie, or Bobby flush red under his beard from Ellen's. They didn't even hear the crash of falling chairs when Gabe attacked Sam. It was just the two of them, alone in a sea of friends.

"I love you," Cas repeated after a moment.

"I love you too," Came Dean's reply. "I heard you the first time, you know."

"I know," Cas leaned back against Dean's shoulder. "I just wanted it to be the first thing you heard this year."

Dean couldn't stop the alcohol-induced giggle. "Fuckin' adorable."

 _February_

"This is supposed to be fun, Dean," Cas complained as Dean darted around. "I'm getting secondhand stress because of you."

"I swear I'm almost ready," Dean called from Cas' kitchen. He was whispering into his phone, and the only thing Cas could hear was a soft, "Thanks, Gabe, you're a life saver."

Cas tilted his head at Dean, confused. They were just going out to regular dinner for Valentines Day. Cas had assured him that whatever Dean did would be wonderful. They stepped out onto Cas' street and there was Gabe in his car, idling by the curb.

"Get in, Cassie!" the older Novak called.

"What...?" Cas turned to Dean, who saluted him and stepped into the Impala, taking off immediately.

Cas sighed and slid into Gabe's passenger seat. "Should I be worried?" he asked his brother.

"Only for your dick," Gabe drove off. "I swear, Dean's grown a vagina. Don't worry bro, you'll be fine." Cas shook his head.

Gabe drove all the way to Lafitte's, where he kicked Cas out. "See you later!" he called, already around the corner.

Lafitte's wasn't exactly the "Valentines Day" type, but there were still a lot of people crowding the room. Cas scanned the throng of people and quickly picked out the back of Dean's head. He was sitting at the bar, oblivious to everything around him.

Cas grinned and sat at the end of the bar, just like he had the night they met.

Dean saw Cas come in and sit down out of the corner of his eye, but he waited a moment before looking over. When he did, he saw Cas' big blue eyes and the flashbacks to that night were vivid.

Dean walked through the crowd like they weren't even there, coming to stand in front of the beautiful blue-eyed man.

"Let's hear it," Cas smirked. Dean grinned. He was playing along.

"Hear what?"

"The cheesy one-liner you're about to give me."

Dean chuckled. "That usually works, but for you..." He let his eyes roam shamelessly down Cas' figure. "I'm going to buy you a drink and ask how you are."

Cas schooled his expression into something a bit more serious. "Well, I still have troubles in my life. Nothing will ever be perfect. But," his eyes darted around. "Want to hear a secret?"

Dean leaned forward eagerly.

"I'm dating this amazing guy. He knows the shit I've been through and I know what he's been through, and he loves me anyway." Dean was grinning stupidly, but he didn't care. "What about you?" Cas asked.

"Well," Dean leaned back. "I've got an even better guy. He's the greatest person I've ever met. The beginning was rough, but I'd go through hell and back to be with him."

Cas kissed him, he couldn't help himself.

"Want to take a walk?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

The reminiscent facade was dropped the second they were out the door, giggling like children. They held hands and talked about what they always talked about- everything and nothing. Cas' hand was familiar in Dean's now, but it never failed to give him the warm fuzzies.

After about twenty minutes, they came upon Dean's apartment building. Cas knew where they were going immediately, but when they got to the roof, he was still surprised. "Wow," he breathed. The roof was decorated with tasteful lights, a fluffy blanket spread out on the ground. There were two picnic baskets waiting to be unpacked. Dean enthusiastically pulled the Novak to the ground and begun removing all of Cas' known favorite foods.

"So that's what Gabe meant," he murmured.

Dean paused. "Huh?"

"Gabe told me that you might have grown a vagina." He chuckled, and Dean pouted.

"Well, _he's_ a vagina," Dean retorted lamely. Castiel only laughed more.

They ate and talked and laughed, and Dean thought he was going to throw up from the happy butterflies in his stomach. Then Cas grew quiet.

"I got you a present," he looked away, shy.

"We said no presents," Dean admonished. Castiel held out a tiny box anyway, and Dean took it. He never said no to presents.

Inside was a key. Just a plain brassy key, unmarked. "Would you like to move in with me?" Cas asked nervously.

The butterflies started doing somersaults, and Dean pulled Cas to him. "Of course," he crushed the man to him, and they immediately went about recreating the mind-blowing sex from the night they met.

Dean stared at his ceiling, Cas breathing deeply on his chest, and knew that he wouldn't miss this room at all.

 _Early March_

"So, it's all okay then?" Dean fidgeted across from Gabe and Sam.

"Yes, it's all okay," Gabe patted the older Winchester on the back. "Just don't fuck up."

"Relax, Dean, this is good!" Sam reassured him.

"Right, yeah," Dean swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. "I'll be fine."

 _Late March_

Dean didn't exactly know how it was going to happen. He just needed to open his mouth and say words. He was a little worried, though. He wanted it to be special, romantic. He had become quite the softie during his and Cas' relationship. Had he really run out of ideas?

No, he'd think of something. Maybe he'd take Cas to an amusement park. Yeah, Cas liked amusement parks. But there weren't any good ones in town. A nice restaurant wasn't very creative.

The blue-eyed man stirred next to him. He had maybe five minutes before Cas woke up, and in that time, he needed a plan. Okay, so they would go to some restaurant, not too nice or anything. Then they'd walk along the lake, something simple like that. That would be fine.

Dean fingered the little box hidden behind the lamp on his night stand. His hand closed around it. Maybe-

"Morning," Cas stretched, and Dean shoved his hand under his pillow.

"Morning, sweetheart," Dean rolled to look at his boyfriend, and his breath caught in his throat. Cas was beautiful, that much was obvious, but right now he looked so relaxed, one arm tucked casually behind his head. His sleepy blue eyes glittered in the Saturday morning sunlight.

Every time Dean saw Cas like that, he fell in love all over again.

"I think I love you," Dean murmured.

Cas chuckled. "I'd hope so."

"For the rest of my life," Dean swiped a thumb across Cas' cheekbone. The Novak's head tilted adorably. "For the rest of my life," Dean repeated, drawing his other hand out from under the pillow. To hell with the plan. This was it.

He opened the little velvety box, a simple silver band nestled into the silk lining. "Will you love me for the rest of yours?"

Cas' mouth fell open. His eyes darted from the ring to Dean's face and back, and they began to fill with unshed tears. "Yes!" he choked out, throwing his arms around Dean. "Yes!"

Cas gripped him tight, and he squeezed right back. This is where Dean was meant to be, right here in Cas' arms. Dean couldn't help but think that their story was so abnormal, to have found something like this that transcended every boundary Dean set for himself. It had been love at first sin, and it was perfect. Dean wouldn't change it for the world.

 **A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading!


	11. Epilogue

**A/N:** As promised, here is the epilogue! Sickly sweet as it should be. Thank you all for reading and commenting, it means a lot to me.

 **Epilogue**

Dean was going to throw up.

He swallowed a hurricane or the Whomping Willow or something. His breath came in short pants and his extremities tingled. He was pretty sure he was sweating through his dress shirt. Jesus.

"Dean, relax. You look like you're gonna hurl," Jo patted him on the back.

"Just what I was thinking," Dean grumbled, fiddling with his bowtie.

"Suit up," Jo pulled Dean to his feet. "You're on in five." Dean shrugged on his suit jacket and wished for whiskey.

Five minutes later found Dean standing next to Sam at the back of the crowd of chairs. The sun shone through the sparse clouds and there was a cool breeze, and the Winchester absently thought that Cas was going to need a new coat soon because his favorite had a hole in it.

The music started playing, and everyone stood.

The seats were split into three sections, so that there would be two aisles. Cas loved the idea, and Dean thought it was pretty cool himself. Something about "meeting as equals." He couldn't see Cas over the sea of heads as he walked next to Sam.

"Easy, Jerk," Sam whispered fondly.

"Bitch," Dean muttered, but smiled at his brother. He was walking down the aisle. How the hell did he get here?

At the front, the crowd parted ways and Dean could finally see Cas. A little gasp escaped his throat, and the Novak visibly colored.

Dean hadn't seen Cas the whole day, or last night either. Tradition or some shit. He didn't know what he was going to wear, and the surprise was worth it. Cas was in a black three piece suit, the electric blue tie he was wearing when they first met tied securely around his neck. The suit was cut oh so perfectly, showing off his slim waist.

There was a little glint in his eye that outshone anything he could wear, though. It was the look Dean got when he held his hand in public, or brought flowers to the art gallery. He got it when he delivered Bluebell's Pralines and Cream ice cream, Cas' favorite, to him after a particularly difficult trade and when he inspected his car every month to make sure his man was safe at all times.

Dean was then aware that he was grinning like an idiot. He didn't really remember when they stepped together under the big tree, but suddenly Cas' hand was warm in his, and the Winchester's nerves fled.

"Friends, family, et cetera," Bobby began as the officiant to some chuckles. "We're here to celebrate the union of Dean Johnathan Winchester and Castiel James Novak, who are about to make a huge commitment. You both know and understand this, and that makes me incredibly proud." Dean squeezed Cas' hand.

Bobby continued. "A wedding is not a marriage. This is a beautiful place with nice clothing and a buffet afterwards, but tomorrow will be a marriage. Next month, next year, and ten years after, you will love each other like you do right now." Bobby cleared his throat.

"Several years ago I adopted a son, Dean. Through every curveball life threw at him, he persevered with love and kindness. He is as selfless as he is stubborn, and he will forever be one of the biggest joys of my life." Dean fought back tears. Bobby hated all this emotional shit, but his words were so sincere. Dean couldn't ask for a better father.

"Several months ago," Bobby cleared his throat again "I met another young man, Castiel. It was a strange beginning for us all, but through my time with him, I've learned a lot. Cas loves fiercely, and never backs down from difficulty. He is patient, loving, and endlessly kind. He puts his whole heart into everything he does, no matter the consequences.

"These men are two halves to a whole. You won't find one without the other close behind. They balance each other out with their differences and revel in their similarities. I'm happy today that I get to adopt another son." Bobby looked at Cas, who was most definitely crying. "You're a part of us, Cas, for better or for worse. Family don't end in blood."

Dean couldn't help but wipe a tear off Cas' cheek. There were several "awww"s from the audience.

"Now, Dean and Cas have elected to write their own vows."

Dean's skin prickled. This was the part that made him truly freaked out. It was one thing to admit his disgustingly sappy love to Cas when they were at home cuddled in their blankets, but this... He would be proclaiming to the world the words written on his heart. That was terrifying.

Sam helped Dean write and memorize them, and he had a little cheat sheet in his sleeve, just in case.

"You first," he murmured to the blue-eyed man, and he smiled.

"Dean," Cas' voice was soft. "When I met you, I was in a terrible place. I had no solid ground under me or sense of direction. I was a broken man."

"You were never broken," Dean squeezed his hand again.

"Hush, I'm vowing myself to you." Both Cas and Dean smiled widely before sobering up again. "I put up walls around myself, and the day I met you, you tore them right down. You walked right up to me and asked me what was wrong. You were supporting me before I even knew your name."

Dean sniffed once. _Don't cry, for the love of god, hold it together._

"These months with you have been the highlight of my life. You cut every string tying me down, and because of you, I can fly. For the rest of my life and beyond, I vow to be your rock, your partner in crime, your best friend, and your love."

"Dammit," Dean muttered, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. "That was really cute."

Castiel chuckled. "Your turn."

Dean cleared his throat and pulled out the little note card he and Sam wrote. The words were carefully chosen, perfectly rehearsed. They made sense. So Dean stuck them back in his pocket.

"My brother helped me write my vows, but I think I'm gonna wing it. Sorry Sammy." Sam shook his head with a smile. Dean's mind had settled now. There was nothing planned about his relationship with Cas. There was nothing picked out carefully or rehearsed to be perfect. It was a sort of beautiful chaos that swept him up and never put him back down.

With a big breath, he took Cas' hand again. "Everyone and their mother knows I've never been real good with emotions. I had never been able to hold down a solid relationship or deal with my father's death. I didn't know how to be happy, y'know?" Cas' eyes were glassy, but he listened intently.

"When I met you, I told you that there was nothing happening in my life, nothing exciting. Then here you were, with your rumpled suit and pretty blue eyes and I was gone." Dean blocked out the audience. He was all for screaming his love for Cas from the rooftops, but this... this was for him, and him only. "You say you were broken. Maybe you were. I know I was. But I don't think either one of us could have really been fixed alone. You gave some pieces to me and I gave some pieces to you, and now we're one whole, like Bobby said."

Bobby puffed up with pride.

Dean looked at the floor for a moment, then continued. "I always thought I wanted to be comfortable, just with life and stuff. But you're not comfortable." Cas tilted his head, but listened patiently. "Being with you is more like relief, like sitting down after a marathon or walking inside a warm house after hours in the snow. I didn't known I was missing something until you showed up, and now I know I couldn't go on without you." The tears tipped over and he scrubbed at his face again. Cas had given up, letting the wetness track down his face.

"Like you said, I vow to be your rock, your partner in crime, your best friend, and your love. You're stuck with me forever, sweetheart."

Cas pulled Dean to him and kissed him fervently, and the Winchester automatically cupped his face in his hands.

"That comes after the rings, ya idjits," Bobby grunted, and Dean and Cas broke apart with stupid, wet smiles. "Who has them again?"

Everyone laughed, and Jo stepped forward with two little silver bands. They were slipped on wordlessly, and then Bobby said, " _Now_ kiss."

Dean made a big show of dipping Cas down before kissing him soundly. He could feel the blue-eyed man's smile on his own lips. "I now pronounce you Dean and Castiel Winchester!"

The crowd cheered, but Dean was still preoccupied with his now-husband. Damn.

Cas' lips were silky but hard, passionate and unforgiving. Dean gripped him tight, and they clung to each other for dear life. They came up for air after perhaps a little too much time and grinned out at the crowd.

"What do you say, Mr. Winchester?" Dean wrapped an arm around Cas' waist. "There's a reception calling our name."

"How kind of you, Mr. Winchester," Cas burst into hysterical giggles as the two practically sprinted back down one of the aisles.

There would be a buffet and a party and lots of presents, but Bobby was right. Today was a wedding, but tomorrow would be a marriage. Next month, next year, ten years after... Hell, even in the afterlife, Dean would love Cas with every fiber of his being. Looking into those clear blue eyes all scrunched up with happiness, he knew that it was going to be the best life he would have never even dreamed of.


End file.
